


Back To Reality

by LadyJFox



Series: Hard Reality [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Action & Romance, Drama, M/M, NSFW Art, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 105,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9327206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJFox/pseuds/LadyJFox
Summary: In the year A.C. 197 when a sizable portion of the Eastern continent secedes from the Earth Sphere Unified Nation and obtains mobile suits the world fears that two years of peace will be in jeopardy. When those mobile suits are put to use, that peace is shattered and the gundam pilots are thrown back into armed conflict. In the midst of yet another war, Quatre and Trowa deepen their relationship. The question is, without gundams can they bring back peace and will their relationship survive?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a story that I started back in 2010 (if I remember correctly). The first few chapters were posted on fanfiction.net under the same title and the account of RavenEnchantress. The project stalled due to a combination of writer's block and a lack of time. Several years later, I still want to finish this story, so I have resurrected it here with additional chapters. WARNING: This is a Quatre/Trowa focused story and I did label this as 'mature' due to potential yaoi smuttiness. No guarantees. If smut doesn't happen, the label will be removed. However, until it is completed, the label will remain.

The alarm clock blared in his ear. Only half conscious, a blonde haired youth groaned, brows furrowing in annoyance and pulled a pillow over his head. A few minutes later the offending noise grew louder.

Reluctantly, Quatre Raberba Winner slowly opened his eyes. Vision still blurry and unfocused, he reached over and slapped the alarm clock into quiet submission. With a resigned sigh he pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes into wakefulness before glancing at the clock. It was five am.

Quatre dragged himself out of bed and headed into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. Most of his friends would still be in bed for another half hour he knew. Old habits die hard though. The former gundam pilot had never shaken his routine of waking up early in the mornings. However, prepping for a battle or going over an endless supply of information on his enemy had been replaced for the more mundane task of getting ready for a day of high school.

It had been two years since the Mariemaia Incident and everyone had returned to their 'normal' lives. For Heero, that meant constantly moving from mission to mission; Duo had gone to work with Hilde in the scrap yard (Quatre thought they made a good couple); Trowa had unsurprisingly returned to the circus; Wufei now worked with Sally Po as a preventer officer; Relena was keeping herself busy as the diplomatic Vice Foreign Minister; and Quatre...Quatre had decided to go to high school.

It had seemed an odd decision at first to the others, but the ex-pilot wanted to experience some form of normalcy and high school had seemed like the best way to do it. A normal high school experience was a little trickier than initially believed however. Even with his sisters making most of the decisions regarding the wealthy family's business, Winner Enterprises Incorporated, Quatre had felt claustrophobic. On his home colony he had been constantly surrounded by businessmen and women who, despite their good intentions to include him in some of the company's business affairs, simply didn't give him the freedom he so desperately wanted.

So Quatre had decided to leave the colony and attend a high school on Earth. The blonde had loved the earth since he had set foot on the vibrant planet. It had seemed the perfect answer and so in August of AC 197 Quatre Raberba Winner began attending class at Wilmington Academy. It was a quaint city on the coast of what had been Europe before the world borders had been dismantled. The city housed a moderate number of people, but yet had not reduced anything from the beautiful coastal vistas and stunning landscape.

These thoughts were not on the young Arab's mind however, as he dressed in his uniform consisting of a deep red collared button-up shirt, red and black striped tie, black blazer with the school's logo, and finally, black slacks and shoes. Not the most flattering thing he'd worn, but it wasn't hideous either. He waited to put on the blazer though. For the moment it rested upon his briefcase style school bag beside his desk, which was situated against the opposite wall to the bathroom.

Quatre checked himself over for the final time, then grabbed the bag with the blazer and descended the sleek black stairs that lead from the split second story that housed two bedrooms, a den, a full bathroom, and a laundry room, to the first story main room. The whole house, though small, had a modern feel to it along with an open floor plan and plenty of beautiful windows, giving the place a bright and welcoming atmosphere.

Setting the bag and blazer next to the door, he walked across the room into the kitchen. The blonde poured himself a quick breakfast consisting of a bowl of cereal and orange juice. Dawn was in full swing with the sun throwing radiant hues of orange, red, and yellow across the water. He paused for a minute, enjoying the beauty of Earth. He was still as awed by the lush planet as he had when he first arrived over two years ago. It was a sight he knew he would never get tired of watching.

As part of his routine, Quatre turned on the small TV that hung against the wall among the cabinets to watch the morning news. "The conflict between the ESUN and the Republic of Eastern Eurussia has only intensified with the newly seceding country declaring that it has obtained armaments, including mobile suites. The mobile suites are believed to include Taurus and Aries among others, though this information has neither been confirmed nor denied."

Quatre shook his head. The conflict was getting worse and he believed a militaristic conflict was highly probable. Relena Darlian and other representatives from the Earth Sphere Unified Nation and the newly formed Republic of Eastern Eurussia (which consisted of what had formerly been Russia, Georgia, Kazakhstan, and Mongolia) had been in discussion for nearly a month now, trying to establish a peaceful resolution between the two entities. The Republic wanted to secede from the ESUN because they disliked being under the control of the ESUN, preferring the singular power they had held as independent countries before the war. In the interest of not seeming like a dictatorship and keeping the peace, the ESUN had allowed the fledgling country to separate itself.

The real problem stemmed from the Republic's demand of rights to armaments. This demand was rejected by the ESUN for reasonable fear of a war. Now however, it all seemed in vain. It seemed to Quatre as if the Republic was hoping for a fight.

In two years of moving forward, it seemed as if they had just moved two years back.  
Quatre sighed. It was time to leave. He donned the blazer before swinging his school bag over his shoulder and walked out of the house, locking the door behind him. It took between half an hour and forty-five minutes to get to the Academy, depending on traffic. It was a little far, but he thought the view his house offered more than made up for the extra travel time.

As it was, the walk from his residence took thirty minutes along picture perfect scenic roads that wound lazily among traditional earthy homes to the little tram station that took him within ten minutes of Wilmington Academy. As he walked along the now familiar route to the tram Quatre's mind turned away from the depressing world news to a more personal matter. It was mid-August and Heero's birthday, which Duo had somehow found and revealed to other former gundam pilots, had come and gone without any word or excitement. Not that he had really expected much else, but Duo had told him that he was hoping to snare Heero from work to throw a party. Obviously it hadn't worked.

The thought saddened the blonde ex-pilot. He missed the others, especially the tall pilot of Heavyarms, Trowa Barton. The two had developed a closeness that was something more than simple camaraderie among soldiers. Quatre missed him the most, not in small part to his attraction to the quiet youth.

Quatre had realized his attraction to Trowa after he thought he had killed the other in a battle. At the time Quatre had been inconsolable after his father's murder by his own colony and as a result of Quatre's devastated frame of mind, the blonde pilot had created a new mobile suite, the Wing Zero. Enraged by the death of his father and the betrayal of the colony, Quatre had set out to destroy the colonies. In the process, a battle ensued between himself, Heero, and Trowa. The intense battle resulted in Quatre regaining his state of mind at the expense of Trowa's welfare. At the time, it was believed that Trowa had not survived.

It was later revealed to be untrue when Duo found Trowa working once again at the circus with Catherine, an older sister type figure to Trowa, albeit without any memory of being a gundam pilot. He later regained those memories after piloting Heero’s gundam Wing Zero in battle.

Despite Trowa's forgiveness, Quatre had never truly forgiven himself for causing so much harm to someone he cared so much for and had brought his deep feelings for the older pilot into revelation. Since then, the blonde had kept any romantic feelings for the other boy to himself. Trowa was hard for Quatre to read from an empathic sense and he didn't want to ruin the friendship that he cherished.

Quatre's thoughts of Heero's nonexistent birthday party led to thoughts of the other pilots and inevitably, Trowa. His meandering thoughts stayed with him all the way to the tram station, through the smooth, uneventful ride, and all the way to school. He was finally brought out of his daydreaming by calls from a group of friends near the entrance to the Academy grounds. The young Arab smiled and waved a casual hand in response.

Back to reality.


	2. Chapter 2

The loud raucous behavior of his friends brought Quatre’s attention to the present. He couldn't help but smile. Their exuberance was infectious. Jaime Lourdes, the blonde haired prima donna stood in the middle of the group. She had pin straight shoulder length hair that framed her sharply angled face. She was dressed identically to all of the other Wilmington girls. Red blouse, red and black striped tie (just like his), black blazer contoured for a lady, knee length black skirt, socks with matching black shoes.

Flanking her right with his arm draped across her shoulders, was Todd Marks, not one of the sharpest tools in the shed, but an all-around good guy. Slightly round in the face and with grey blue eyes, Todd's hair always had a tousled bedhead look to it that could never be tamed despite the girls' best efforts. When you looked at the guy, you wouldn't think academic one bit. He had a body build much like a wrestler, on the short side with square, heavyset shoulders and unsurprisingly, he lifted weights. You could tell. His biceps were quite large, almost looking like a product of steroids.

At the moment Quatre was unsure on whether or not the two were dating. They acted as if they were and the talk was running through Wilmington like wildfire, but they hadn't confirmed nor denied anything yet. Whatever that was worth considering. It was high school.

To Todd's right stood petite little Maria Holtz. Though small in stature Maria was a knock out beauty, putting even Jaime's starlet features to shame. The sassy Spaniard almost always had something to say about everything and wasn't afraid to say it. Quite the firecracker, Maria had been called down to the Dean's office more than once for arguing during lecture. Concentrating on her love of dance, she was working hard to audition into the Juilliard School of Dance located in what was formerly known as the United States of America.

Positioned on Jaime's left stood twins Eric and Suzzie Baker. Both talented athletes, while Eric dominated the soccer field and track, Suzzie was a nightmare to go against in tennis and was on the verge of going pro as soon as high school was over. Despite their natural talent in sports, both were quite subdued off their respective fields of battle and were currently having a discussion between each other, only occasionally laughing at some smart remark from the others.

Rounding out the group, standing next to Eric and Suzzie was Thomas Pattenson. The black haired youth had eyes the color of worn dark leather and sported a tan that never seemed to fade. Thomas oozed confidence that never wavered, often times acting as the rock of the group when emotions and unavoidable high school drama unfolded within their clique. Soft spoken, but always heard, Thomas possessed an amazing intellect and astute clarity regarding situations. He also seemed to know a little bit of something about everything. Quatre had a feeling he would make either a great lawyer or politician. Or perhaps both.

The group had situated themselves in a loose semi-circle just outside the Academy's intimidating gothic style gates, which currently stood open toward the inside, which attached to a nine-foot-high light grey stone wall that blocked most of the campus' front view. The founders of Wilmington Academy had built the main gates into the stone wall simply for aesthetics; however, instead of completely enclosing the school in seemingly oppressive stone, they had the remaining three sides bordered by a more appealing fence that was a continuation of the gates. 

The result was an intimidating, but attractive front to the public eye, portraying the respect the ostentatious school deserved coupled with an airy and tasteful boundary that didn't leave its pupils gasping for air while inside the grounds.

It was, even in Quatre's eyes, a seemingly unlikely group. How they all got along, he wasn't completely sure, a thought he attributed also to the gundam pilots. At the moment it was Maria and Jaime making most of the noise, punctuated every now and then by Todd's need to be included and Thomas' soft observations.

As he walked up to his group of friends he realized that after they had successfully gotten his attention, the girls had begun discussing their ever preferred topic. Gossip. Eric rolled his eyes as he met the Quatre’s gaze and the former gundam pilot heard Thomas chuckle softly as he witnessed the exchange. Quatre smiled again. A normal day in high school seemed to be awaiting him. It was nice, thought Quatre, to be a normal high school student. It was really, quite nice.

The weather was cool with a gentle breeze playing with her sandy blonde hair. Relena Darlian closed her eyes to the sun, for a brief moment she was able to forget that the peaceful world she had worked so hard to achieve was on the brink of collapse. Her dream was once again fraying at the edges while still in its infancy. The Earth Sphere Unified Nation was only two years old and only a year had passed since it had survived the Mariemaia incident.

Now, suddenly it seemed a fairly large portion of the population on Earth was unhappy with the way things were. It was a slippery slope. The ESUN hadn't been able to keep the rebellious former nations from branching off for fear of bloodshed and it seemed as if peaceful discussion wasn't faring any better.

The Republic of Eurussia was unrelenting in their demand for armaments. Relena knew that openly allowing such a thing to happen would simply be asking for another war considering the Republic's belligerent attitude.

She simply couldn't let that happen.

But for an instant, she could pretend her problems didn't exist. At least, until she opened her eyes anyway. 

The Vice Foreign Minister looked up at the conference building. Most of the diplomatic council members from around the ESUN had arrived here on a colony in the L3 cluster to discuss the growing issue regarding the new Republic. To be honest, she wasn't sure if they were going to be able to do much.

The Republic seemed intent on ignoring the ESUN and if the fledgling nation did indeed have mobile suites as they now claimed, Relena was sure they would be gunning for a fight.

Taking a deep breath, the young diplomat squared her shoulders and raised her chin defiantly before she entered the building, headed up the elevator and joined her fellow diplomats. Even if her efforts failed and the world was pulled into war once again she was going to do her damnedest to keep it from happening.

Mikhail Castonev strolled lazily along the large stone pathway that wound its way through his estate's large garden; his hard soled black knee high boots clicking distinctly as he went.

The garden was filled with an assortment of Azaleas, Roses, Carnations, Lilies and Chamomiles, as well as natural shrubs and small trees; it was his personal Eden on Earth. 

He came here too little these days. Lately he had been so busy meeting with his advisors, military staff, other diplomats from other areas of the newly formed Republic of Eurussia, and even occasionally, engaging in discussions with representatives from the Earth Sphere Unified Nation that a casual stroll about his haven was long overdue.

Castonev had been one of the instrumental founders of the Republic. The Russian had been raised in a very traditional old-country style family. He firmly believed that Mother Russia was a great superpower of a country and that it should remain so. As a young man Castonev enlisted as a soldier and had steadily made his way up the chain of command.

The military and political ladder eventually had combined, bringing the man close to political power over his beloved country. Until the Colonial War of 195 began in earnest. Things hadn't gone his way since. Castonev had never been quite content with the way the war ended. Almost immediately, he had begun implementing a plan to gain territorial control over a substantial area between what had once been Russia and Europe in order to gain personal power and secede from the ESUN.

Even throughout the Mariemaia incident, the Russian had not allowed his plans to be derailed. 

As much as Castonev disliked the ESUN the conniving man had breathed a sigh of relief when the Mariemaia threat had been destroyed. The child's victory would not have deterred Castonev from his plans, but it would have caused him to backpedal and recalculate. Quite frankly, he wasn't that patient of a man. Now nearing his mid-fifties, Castonev was determined to finally reach what he had believed to be his for so long.

Castonev paused for a moment, contemplating a patch of thorny roses. 

A man dressed in a dark green military style suit and tall black knee high boots, very similar to Castonev, approached at a brisk pace. Halting roughly five paces away the intruder stood casually in the former's presence. "They are waiting for you Mikhail," the stranger informed him. "Every leading diplomat within the Republic of Eurussia is seated and awaiting your decision."

"Thank you, Sergei." Castonev replied. 

It really had all come together fairly easily. A surprising amount of people, even in Castonev's mind, hadn't completely accepted the ESUN.

Looking for somewhere to turn, some out, they had turned to him. Technically, the Republic consisted of a rather large council seat, of which he and Sergei both held positions in. 

The reality of the situation was that Castonev had the power and the muscle to back it up. The Republic was essentially a new face on old Mother Russia and it was he who controlled her.

The Council Seat of the Republic of Eurussia danced to his puppet strings. And it was time to start the puppet show.


	3. Chapter 3

Quatre Raberba Winner was in AP Advanced Calculus. And he was bored. 

Only half listening to the professor's lecture, his mind traveled lazily about in a desperate attempt to not fall asleep. The professor was a kind man in his mid-to-late forties with wire rimmed glasses and wore the same suite religiously. He loved his job and took the extra time and effort in order for his students to succeed.

The blonde youth admired his dedication and genuinely liked the man. Unfortunately, though, just like the stereotypical teacher, his voice simply droned on and on and on. Quatre had caught even some of his most studious 4.0 classmates nodding off on occasion.

The atmosphere in the room didn't help either.

The small classroom was one of the oldest in this particular wing of the school, permeating the air with an old book and chalkboard smell. Thanks to the brilliantly azure blue sky hardly dotted with clouds, the class had unanimously elected to turn the artificial lights in the room off, allowing for a more natural study environment.

The result was a slightly darker room, though still well lit, that only enhanced the sleepiness Quatre was already feeling. The windows were open, but on this side of the building the classrooms rarely caught a breeze, also adding to his discomfort.

Overall, Quatre disliked almost everything about this class and the fact that he could take the semester's final in his sleep and surely receive an excellent score, yet couldn't test out of the class annoyed him considerably.

Unconsciously tapping his fingers on the small, heartlessly cold metallic desk, Quatre resigned himself to watch the clock slowly tick closer and closer to his freedom.

Quatre's salvation came in the form of the school bell clamoring out in the hall. Deftly scooping up his things and unceremoniously dumping them in his bag, Quatre practically leapt out of his chair and into the hall. He hadn't been the only one either. In the mere seconds it had taken him to exit the room the whole hallway had become congested with bodies.

Most of the students were making their way to another class, pushing and shoving their way between open lockers, peers and every now and then, a teacher. 

Quatre was patient however.

He was not going to another class, but to lunch period and therefore had a little more leeway time for travel. 

By the time he had gotten through the laboriously slow food court line Todd, Jaime, Thomas, and Suzzie were all seated at a round table situated near one of the TVs continuously looping the world news. Its focus, unsurprisingly, was the brimming conflict between the ESUN and the Republic of Eurussia.

He took a seat across from Todd and Jaime to sit in between the other two. It hadn't escaped his notice as he approached that the two were holding hands under the table.

The blonde Arabian caught Thomas' gaze and raised a questioning eyebrow while ever so discreetly inclining his head in the pair's direction. The darker haired boy shrugged in response, giving Quatre a look that told him he really shouldn't be surprised.

"So, how was calculus?" teased Jaime, smiling as she bit into a delicious looking strawberry before breaking into delighted laughter in response to Quatre's baleful glare.

"Oh, come on. He's not that bad is he?" she asked.

"Yes. He is." Quatre deadpanned "I'm shocked I'm not catatonic from boredom."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic Quatre. He's not really as bad as you make him sound. You're scaring the less intelligent children over there from educating themselves further," chastised Thomas as he began reading a book while he ate his sandwich.

"Gee, thanks Thomas!" Suzzie quipped in sarcastically. "Good to know that you think the rest of us are idiots." Thomas shrugged, a smirk playing across his face.

"You had Mr. Zeleski last year, Thomas. You know damn well how bad he is" argued Quatre. It was an argument everyone had heard a dozen times already and Quatre decided to change the subject. 

"Did anyone watch the news this morning?" he asked, half expecting the answer.

"You know we don't get up early enough to watch TV in the morning," whined Todd, finally speaking up and acting as if his classmate had just asked him if he had read the dictionary front to back. “Really, it’s bad enough we have to be in class at eight."

Thomas looked up sharply from his lunch, his facial features hardening into a scowl and his brows knitted together menacingly as he gave the athlete a withering look. "You should," he said angrily. "Have you ever thought that things actually happen outside of this school? Meaningful things?"

Quatre leaned sideways a little, in order to get a better view of his friend. The dark haired senior just didn't get this upset about anything. Quatre knew that Thomas was just as concerned about worldly politics as he was himself, but this sort of reaction was completely unexpected from the usually reserved young man. 

"Get your head out of your ass Marks and take a look around! The world is tearing apart all over again, we're on the precipice of disaster and war's almost inevitable now," he spat crossly.

Despite his friend's sudden ire, Quatre couldn't help but think it just like Thomas to use a word that Todd didn't know against him.

Their table was quiet for a moment and it seemed as if all the noise had faded from the room, despite the fifty plus loud, obnoxious teenagers fighting to be heard over each other. Everyone at their table looked dumbfounded at Thomas. The glare he was giving Todd promised physical injury, if not death, if his ignorant friend said something else to set him off.

"Easy Thomas," said Suzzie, her eyes wide in shock at Thomas' outburst. "He's a jock. You have to understand that his brain is the size of a peanut. You can't expect him to come to any sort of meaningful conclusions on his own." Her voice was joking as she attempted to calm her visibly upset friend. 

It seemed to have worked. Thomas' facial features, softened. His eyebrows eased back into their normal position and his scowl had receded to a thin line, creating a less menacing visage but still showed his annoyance toward Todd.

The mood around the table had lifted ever so slightly, but for only a moment. "Are we really going to war?" asked Jaime, a faint tremble in her voice as she looked at Thomas. "Again? I mean, I don't know what I expected when the Republic announced their secession, but certainly not a war."

"Bank on it," replied Quatre darkly. All eyes turned to him. "When the Republic at least kept quiet about their possession of armaments there was a chance for both entities to try to coexist. The big problem is the Republic actually wants a war by the looks of it, which is a little surprising and a little not at the same time. I would have thought they would have solidified themselves more before taking such a drastic action. The Republic is quite large and getting all of those people united can't be an easy task," explained Quatre, looking down at his plate and unsuccessfully trying to stab a little baby tomato in his salad.

"However," he continued, "it was their decision to confess to having mobile suites, which worries me. And the media wouldn't be far off the mark in venturing that they included Taurus and Aries suites. Both are common and easily capable of fighting on Earth or in space. And to make it all worse, the ESUN honestly doesn't know what to do about it. They aren't prepared for this sort of thing. No one even thought that anyone would want to secede so soon after the Mariemaia Incident. But now that it's happened they don't want to make the first attack and look like dictators to the, quite frankly, mostly ill-informed public. At the same time, they can't afford to just roll over and let the Republic do whatever they want. Such a move would endanger the strength and abilities of the ESUN." 

Quatre closed his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his golden hair and muttered "We're practically right back where we started."

Quatre tore his gaze up from his food tray and into four pairs of eyes staring at him. The expressions facing him revealed that most of them were dumbfounded, except Thomas, who had a curious yet concerned look upon his face.

The blonde could feel the other boy's emotions roll off of him. Quatre bit his lip anxiously as he realized he had divulged information on mobile suites that most civilians didn't particularly know about.

No one else seemed to notice however and thankfully Thomas let the matter drop. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?" Thomas pondered out loud, still watching Quatre with a contemplative look playing about his face, as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that had just mysteriously sprouted a new piece that didn't quite fit with the rest.

"Okay," Todd said rather loudly, "Enough on scary - depressing topics." The wrestler turned toward the two girls sitting beside him, promptly ignoring Thomas and Quatre. "Did you see how short Cassidy Riley's skirt is today? I'm shocked the headmaster hasn't had her in his office yet."

Quatre shook his head in submission as he watched the others begin conversing about such mundane things. Obviously they were even less understanding of the state of the world than he had given them credit for.

Thomas was right. They were on the brink of war and Quatre had to wonder. Did the people really care?

The rest of his day went by uneventfully.

There was hardly any more talk of civil unrest, politics, or impending wars and, considering the state of things, that worried Quatre. 

It made him wonder if most people his age were blissfully ignorant to what was going on. He wasn't used to people brushing aside talk of war as if they were merely sweeping dirt under a rug. Sometimes he just wanted to slap them, shake them, or do something to make them understand the reality of the situation.

Geographically, Wilmington was not all that far from the Republic of Eurussia's border and the public's oblivious behavior towards that fact only increased his concern.

His dark mood from lunch had stayed with him throughout the day, his friends finding him a downer to conversation whenever they were able to coerce a response from the brooding blonde and had eventually just left him alone.

That suited him fine. 

By the time his final class period arrived the breeze outside had picked up and Quatre found himself looking out the window, watching the trees dance gently with the wind, his mind wandering for the second time that day. The sight put his tumultuous thoughts to ease.

His reverie was interrupted by the voice of a fellow student responding to a prompt from the professor and made him jump slightly in his seat, effectively reminding him that he probably should be paying attention. 

Tearing his eyes away from the trees and focusing once again on the lecture, Quatre sighed silently to himself. His effort to concentrate on class was only half hearted though and, as a result, his attention didn't last long. He found himself gazing, once again, absently out through the window. This time, something interesting caught his eye.

A tall, slender youth, roughly Quatre's age was leaning casually, arms folded across his chest, against a lime green and charcoal black ninja crotch rocket motorcycle that was parked just outside the closed school gates. Quatre would have recognized him even without his trademark hair that covered a large portion of his usually stoic face. 

And he was staring right at Quatre. The blonde smiled.

Normal life had just gotten a whole lot better.

______________________________________________________________________

The corner of his mouth turned up in an almost imperceptible grin as he caught sight of the blue eyed blonde exiting the school along with easily three hundred others.

Quatre Raberba Winner had spotted the taller ex-gundam pilot from his classroom before the bell had rung and when the doors opened, effectively setting loose a small army of pent up teenagers, Trowa easily recognized the blonde making an expected b-line for him. A smile plastered on his face. The tall youth's heart skipped a beat. He had missed that smile.

A part of Trowa's brain registered a small group of classmates that had gathered in a circle on the lawn. Three young girls sprawled across the carefully manicured green, laughing and gossiping with the three boys who stood behind them. Spying their friend in the crowd moving away from them, they called out to the blonde, still smiling and laughing at something Trowa didn't catch. Quatre either ignored them or didn't hear because he just kept walking, never taking his eyes off the brown haired boy. He stopped only two steps away and Trowa was conscious of Quatre's critical eyes studying him.

Up close the difference a year had made was apparent. When the two had originally met (and even up to the end of the war with the colonies) Quatre, at first appearance outside of his mobile suit, was a baby faced idealist who didn’t belong on the battlefield. Eventually, the blonde had proved his skills as a gundam pilot and as a talented tactical leader, leading not only a forty person Middle Eastern unit, but the five gundam pilots as well. 

Now, however, he looked totally different. The blonde was no longer cherubic in appearance, but leaner and stronger. His facial features had slimmed, becoming more defined and mature. Trowa was sure the rest of him had done the same as well. Quatre was also a good deal taller than he had been. His posture, which had always given away his high class upbringing, had an element of casual confidence to it.

For all the changes in his physical appearance, he was still the same Quatre. Those exquisite aquamarine eyes sparkled just as brightly as they always had and his smile was even more welcoming than he remembered. Trowa's heart skipped a beat and he fought to keep his breathing normal, his face casual. Quatre had always held a power over him, but he hadn't expected reuniting with the blonde to have this strong of an effect. He simply didn't know how to handle it, so for the time being he kept his feelings to himself.

_______________________________________________________________________

 

Quatre stared up into the deep green eyes currently sizing him up. The young aristocrat knew he was easy on the eyes (mostly because Maria wouldn't let him forget the fact, much to his embarrassment) but usually didn't give much thought to how he looked among his peers. Under Trowa's scrutinizing assessment however, Quatre feared himself rather inadequate. His friend, on the other hand, was just as attractive as ever. The blonde couldn't help himself as his eyes took his friend in.

Trowa was still taller than Quatre, probably getting close to six feet by his estimation, and still muscularly slender and willowy in appearance. He was dressed, as always, in a forest green turtleneck sweater and jeans, his casual stance against the bike belied his constantly alert nature. 

The tall Latin still had the same eyes, a deep green that expressed more emotion than the rest of his body combined. His hair, though still the same brown and worn in the exact same way, sported subtle streaks of a lighter caramel color. Most likely a result of spending so much more time outside in the sun on the Earth working at the circus rather than staying predominantly inside large military bases and fighting in mobile suits.

Different, yet the same. A thought no doubt shared by the other, he was sure. Quatre's eyes glittered in mirth as he brought his eyes back up to Trowa's, which currently showed no other emotion besides calm interest. It was Trowa who spoke first. "You got taller," he said simply. A hint of a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Quatre couldn't help but laugh. "Hello, Trowa" he replied pleasantly. "It's been almost a year and that's the best you can do?" The question held a playful tease to it and Trowa only grinned in response. The brunette uncrossed his arms, nonchalantly holding a helmet that had been hidden behind his back out toward the smaller blonde from his left hand. Quatre smiled again, he just couldn't help it around Trowa, taking the helmet enthusiastically.

Trowa stood up fully and positioned himself on the bike as Quatre donned the protective equipment and joined him. "Your friends seem a little upset," he noted over the noise as the engine roared to life, looking at the obviously stunned group of six. Quatre glanced over to his clique. Their shocked expressions almost made him laugh.

"They'll live," came the response in his ear, barely loud enough to be heard over the motorbike. Smiling in earnest now, Trowa revved up the bike just for show before pulling away from the sidewalk and taking off into town.


	4. Chapter 4

Having left the bike to sit in a parking lot a while back, the two friends strolled casually through the narrow streets of town, content for the moment to walk in silence. Quatre had taken off his blazer and tie, disrespectfully stuffing them into his school bag which now bulged in protest. The Arabian had also released the top button on his shirt, loosening the collar, presenting a much more casual appearance.

Trowa, who had been taking in the small city's picturesque views, stole a glance at his friend. Hands in his pockets and seeming to be completely at ease, the blonde looked all the part of a well-dressed upper-class youth taking a stroll. He wasn't sure if he'd pick red as Quatre's best color though, he thought absently.

Feeling eyes boring into him, Quatre looked up and met Trowa's eyes with his own. The taller youth looked like he wanted to say something. "What is it Trowa?" he asked curiously, wondering what was going on inside that head of his. Trowa just looked forward again, focusing on some distant object ahead of them.

"Nothing," was all the reply he was given. Quatre sighed. _I guess time hasn't changed us too much_ , Quatre thought with slight bitterness. He had hoped time with his adoptive sister, Catherine, would have coerced Trowa into being a slightly more social individual. As of yet, his hope seemed to have been in vain. His quiet nature made communicating frustratingly difficult at times, even for the empathic Quatre.

The blonde smiled. Trowa wouldn't be able to evade his questions forever. A thought crossed his mind. "Hey Trowa," he said excitedly, delighting in the cautious look the taller ex-pilot gave him, the sudden change in the former Gundam pilot throwing him off balance. "Let's grab a drink."

"A drink?" asked Trowa skeptically. He paused briefly, wondering what the legal drinking age was here.

"Yes, a drink." Quatre turned around, walking backward. "I know a nice little place. You'll like it," he told him before turning back around and led the way. Trowa said nothing as he followed.

Roughly twenty minutes later the two were sitting inside a quaint little café. Situated on one of the many hill crests within the city, it had an almost perfect view of the busy harbor. Built from natural light colored stone over fifty years ago, the age of the place gave it a nice authentic feel to it. Inside were numerous tables and chairs made out of wrought iron. Everything about the furniture was slender and streamlined. The look was mirrored in the tables, each with exquisitely hand crafted slate and marble tops with the most beautiful and unique patterns. No two tables were the same, adding to the richness of the place.

Having paid for their drinks, they had chosen a secluded table in the corner beside the large front window. Ever alert, Trowa took the seat with his back against the wall, giving him a clear view of the whole café and out into the street.

Quatre was not nearly as paranoid as his friend and sat comfortably with his back to the door. The blonde had ordered a cup of tea while Trowa had opted for simple black coffee. Trowa always drank the stuff straight. Quatre couldn't keep himself from crinkling his nose when the taller boy had ordered it.

"So when did the circus get into town? I haven't seen any signs that there was even one around here," he inquired, watching his friend over his tea cup.

"Only a couple of hours before I picked you up," replied Trowa evenly as he sipped slowly at his steaming mug. The shocked expression on the smaller youth's face had Trowa smiling on the inside, though the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes belied his amusement. He knew Quatre hadn't expected that answer. Quatre's facial expression changed from one of surprise to one of confusion.

"You wouldn't be able to completely set up camp in that time frame. How did you manage to come see me?"

"We already knew you lived nearby. We're bound to be pretty busy in the first few days we're here and the chances of me getting away long enough to see you would have been slim. So, Catherine and the manager let me skate on helping set things up." Trowa explained with a shrug.

Quatre was dumbfounded, to say the least.

The blonde had always believed that Trowa's self-proclaimed sister hated him for two very good reasons. The first being Quatre's causing Trowa a serious bout of amnesia resulting from a battle between himself, Trowa, and Heero. The second being that, after finding Trowa in such a compromised state, Quatre had been the reason the confused pilot had returned to fighting. If he was truly honest with himself, Quatre supported Catherine's dislike of him and didn't begrudge her for it one bit.

The protective young women had never flat out stated any like or dislike toward the blonde, but Quatre felt it. He knew it was there and for her to accept Trowa's continued close friendship with him enough to go out of her way for them to spend time together…well, Quatre silently thanked her for that.

Apparently his train of thought was evident on his face because Trowa was giving him a stern look, his coffee seemingly forgotten. Quatre promptly set his empty teacup down, facing the other boy with as close to a guiltless expression as possible.

"Quatre, you need to stop blaming yourself," admonished Trowa. "It wasn't your fault. Let it go."

Reclining back in his chair and stretching out his legs, he gazed out through the large window, watching the locals meander on past in an effort to avoid Trowa's stare. He shrugged dismissively. "I don't think I ever will Trowa," he confessed. "And I'm not all that quick to put the blame wholly on the Zero System as everyone else seems to be. The colonies had just abandoned us, Father was killed by the very same people I was trying to protect, and Iria was badly injured in the whole thing. Any psychologist would tell you a psychotic break would have been likely," Quatre explained.

"Even if that were the case, there was mitigating circumstances and therefore, you are not responsible," Trowa stated so matter-of-factly leaving no room for continued discussion. Quatre glanced over at Trowa, whose eyes glinted victory.

A smile tugged at the corner of the blonde's mouth. "Nice try. I'll give you an A for effort, but only a C in originality. I kinda handed you the ammunition for that one." Trowa inclined his head slightly and Quatre turned the discussion onto much lighter matters.

The pair relaxed at that café for a couple of hours, discussing a multitude of things ranging from what they had done since the Mariemaia Incident and what news they had received about what the others were up to, then to what they were doing now and random stories about their lives in between.

After they left, Quatre pulled his fellow former Gundam pilot the local art gallery. 'You'll enjoy it Trowa" he assured the reticent young man.

Quatre had been right.

Trowa was immediately captivated by the stunning work it contained and spent a good amount of time in the contemporary department. Quatre had been surprised by the other's fascination in the obscure paintings. Trowa brought the blonde's attention to a particularly confusing piece of work. Harsh streaks of a dozen different colors filled the canvas, splashed randomly about. The piece made no sense to the young aristocrat. The blonde looked over at Trowa, who seemed to have a better grasp of the piece by the look on his face.

"What do you make of it?" he asked the taller youth.

"You can't tell?" asked Trowa, looking down at his friend with a stoic expression on his face. Quatre merely looked at him quizzically. "It looks a lot like an elephant playing water polo."

Something like that coming from the predominantly serious Trowa was just too much and he burst out laughing, startling many of the more conservative art enthusiasts in the room. Quatre put a hand on Trowa's arm to steady himself and half turned away, trying to catch his breath in between laughs.

Trowa's stomach fluttered.

The unexpected contact caused a multitude of emotions to swirl inside him: love, fear, pain, hope, uncertainty. He wasn't used to feeling this way. He was used to being in control, always in control. These novel feelings that Quatre brought about did not facilitate control.

Sometimes when Quatre touched him in a certain way, when the blonde looked at him just right, and especially when he said his name softly…Oh, God when Quatre said his name. In those moments, he wasn't in control. Quite the opposite and, though he wouldn't admit it, it scared him. Trowa only knew of one way to keep control. The brunette forcefully pushed aside his emotions. He pushed them far enough away that they could be ignored, for awhile at least.

When Quatre turned back to Trowa, still leaning on him for balance, he saw only a slight twinkle of laughter in his eyes. Just a moment ago he had looked as he was actually about to laugh. The sudden change confused the blonde.

Even with Trowa being on the silent side, he didn't understand what could have caused the other boy to change moods so quickly. It was then that he noticed the appalled and angry expressions being sent their way from the other patrons occupying the room. Quatre smiled, hoping it would chase away his discomfort. "Come on. Let's get out of here before we get stoned to death," he said as he tugged on Trowa's arm.

They ate an uneventful dinner together at a casual Italian restaurant before Quatre; cheerful once again, decided to take the tall brunette to the pier carnival.

Already it was near dusk by the time they were walking along the harbor pier that hosted a small carnival year round. The bright lights were on, crazy carnival noises and local radio broadcasts carried across the pier from many of the attractions.

The two walked in between rows of game tents while avoiding crashing into children as the little urchins ran headlong through the crowd. Trowa's sudden change in behavior seemed to have been something of a dream like it had never happened and Quatre was munching contentedly on a bag of cotton candy (it was his second) while Trowa held a large stuffed panda bear that he'd won at a shooting booth. Trowa smiled at Quatre's love for sweats.

"You have such a sweet tooth." He commented casually, glancing down at the smaller youth.

The blonde smiled and shrugged, pulling out a small handful of the fluffy pink stuff. "I've got a good dentist," he replied offhandedly. His quip answer provoked a deep chuckle from the tall acrobat, causing Quatre to falter a step. The sound almost made him melt. He recovered quickly though and Trowa didn't seem to notice.

Relief washed over the young multi-millionaire. He could handle executives and siblings hounding him about WEI on top of his school work, during exams no less, but he wasn't sure he could handle Trowa's reaction to Quatre spilling his guts about his feelings toward him.

Especially when the blonde got the impression that Trowa wasn't exactly batting for his team, so to speak.

As much as Quatre was attracted to his former comrade in arms, he was too afraid of ruining their friendship to say anything. The last thing he wanted was to scare off the one person he wanted to get closest to for something that might not even work.

Trowa's voice cut sharply into Quatre's internal dilemma.

"Quatre, want to go take the ferry around the harbor?" The taller boy was looking at him expectantly and Quatre figured it hadn't been the first time he'd been asked that question.

"Oh, yeah…sure," replied the blonde as he hurriedly finished the last of the cotton candy, throwing the bag away as they stepped onto the ferry boat. The crowd was fairly large already and the air inside the enclosed area of the boat was too stifling, so Trowa lead the way out onto the open deck.

They stopped near the railing, Quatre allowing his school bag to drop to the floor unceremoniously at his feet, leaning with his forearms on the rail. He looked into the gloomy black waves of the water as they pulled away from the dock, allowing them to take his thoughts with them.

Trowa stood, straight and erect with his hands in his pockets, panda bear resting against his leg, and taking in the colorful lights of the harbor. His eyes soon drifted over to the blonde by his side only a few feet away. He couldn't help but enjoy the view.

Quatre was turning into a very naturally attractive young man. He felt the urge to run his hand through that beautiful golden blonde hair, gently trail his fingers down Quatre's neck, whisper sweet nothings in his ear while his hands slipped down across his back sending ripples of pleasure across the younger boy's body, and lower to his waist, and then continuing even lower…

Trowa was startled, as much as the usually composed ex-gundam pilot could be anyway, out of his less than innocent thoughts about his friend by a question spoken so softly he almost didn't catch it. "When will you leave?" asked the blonde, looking up at Trowa, searching for an answer he knew wouldn't be there.

The brunette shrugged, not picking up on the hidden meaning underneath the simple question. "A week, maybe longer if we do well enough." He watched as Quatre casually turned around, leaning his back against the rail, stuffing his hands in his pockets and gazing up at the few stars that weren't obscured by the bright lights of the city. The blonde closed his eyes and sighed, causing a guilty knot to form in Trowa’s stomach. "Not long enough is it?" he asked.

Quatre shook his head. "It wouldn't be nearly so bad, you know, if you would write or call or…something, every once in awhile," Quatre accused with a bit more vehemence than he had intended.

"Duo and Wufei at least contact me once in awhile and I talk to Relena enough to know what Heero's up to...As much as you're allowed to know what he's up to anyway. But I don't hear a word from you until you show up out of the blue. Not one, Trowa." Quatre looked over his shoulder to meet Trowa's eyes with his own. "What's up with that? I thought we were closer than that," he finished quietly, fighting desperately to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes and the pathetic quiver out of his voice. He was suddenly very angry with Trowa and also very hurt, but he didn't want to collapse into a blubbering mess in front of the guy.

Trowa didn't react, just met Quatre's gaze coldly. The brunette saw the tears in his eyes threatening to get the better of his friend and the knowledge that he was the cause pained him. He knew he owed Quatre a better explanation than he could give. There wasn't any good reason Trowa was willing to admit to that kept him from making contact with him up until today, so he kept silent. He saw a flash of anger in those vibrant blue eyes, and then an expression of defeat as Quatre dropped his head to stare dejectedly at the deck.

Quatre blinked the tears away and waited until he trusted his voice before changing the subject. "How'd you find me anyway?" he asked curiously. Any hint of anger or pain was gone from his voice, replaced by faint curiosity. "I mean, it's not exactly like I announced what school I was attending and Wilmington has a very strict code on privacy for exactly that reason".

"I hacked into all of the private schools' databases in the surrounding area until I found you," Trowa replied nonchalantly, looking back out across the water. "It's not like it was hard," he added as an afterthought.

In spite of his annoyance of Trowa's lack of interest in keeping in contact with him, Quatre chuckled at his answer. He should have guessed that that was how he had done it. Just because they didn't necessarily have to hack into places anymore didn't mean that they still couldn't.

"Old habits, I suppose" commented the blonde, looking back up at the sky. The stars made him think of the colonies, which in turn, made him think about the ESUN, followed closely by thoughts of the Republic. "We're going to war again Trowa," he said with a painful finality in his tone.

"It’s highly likely, yes," replied the taller brunette. He turned to face Quatre fully and moved closer to the blonde. The change in personal space brought Quatre's attention from the sky back to Trowa, who was now only inches from him. He felt his throat constrict and it took all of his willpower not to look away from the determined look that he found in the other’s eyes.

"There is a chance though, that the Republic has merely taken up mobile suites because they feel threatened by the ESUN, optimistically speaking anyway. And a large part of me wants to believe that," Trowa continued. "But if the Republic does go to war against the ESUN, I'm ready to fight again. I have no doubt that Relena will ask us for help if it comes to that. But until she does or the Republic declares war, whichever comes first, I'll stay with the circus. I'm not yet willing to leave Cathy for a maybe."

Quatre stared into Trowa's eyes for a moment before looking back over his shoulder at the harbor dock with all its radiant lights edging closer as the ferry boat made its slow trek back to port. "It's a shame," he thought out loud. "I had just gotten used to being a normal high school student. It was nice."

Trowa could see the conflicting feelings raging within his friend. Out of all the pilots, Quatre was one of two who had previously held a relatively normal lifestyle, even if it hadn't exactly been all happy days and sunshine.

The war between Earth and the space colonies that surrounded the Earth which he had so actively participated in, the constant conflict with and eventual death of his pacifist father followed immediately by the death of his sister, and the overall baggage one accumulates during a war had changed him significantly. Hardly normal for a fifteen-year-old, but in spite of such traumatic events he had forged a new life as a civilian quite successfully. Something none of the others had managed to accomplish.

And now, thanks to this new Republic of Eurussia, it was all getting yanked away because Quatre wasn't the type of person to stand aside and watch everything he had worked to achieve get destroyed.

Trowa couldn't imagine how it must feel to the kind hearted seventeen-year-old. Trowa had never been an overly expressive individual and his upbringing amongst mercenaries hadn’t exactly promoted sensitivity. But he could see the confusion, fear, anger and determination in his friend's eyes. At that moment, all he wanted to do was comfort him. Let him know that despite whatever happened in the future everything would be okay.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had brought a curled index finger underneath Quatre's chin, gently forcing the blonde to look him in the eyes. "Quatre."

Quatre's breath hitched as Trowa tenderly coerced him to meet his gaze. Butterflies made themselves known in his stomach, he felt his heart pound hard against his chest and somewhere in the back of his head he prayed that Trowa couldn't feel his pulse.

Quatre was powerless to do anything other than stare up into those wonderful green eyes. He was also becoming increasingly more aware of how close they were to each other. Just one more step and their bodies would touch.

"Trowa…I..." Quatre started as he made to move closer. The intimacy was lost however when, just as Quatre had moved toward the other pilot, his cell phone rang. Buzzing obnoxiously in his back pocket, Quatre cursed under his breath as he reached to silence the thing. At the same time, he was painfully aware that Trowa had promptly withdrawn his hand, which had felt so comforting to the blonde, and had backed away a few paces.

Returning to his original position, Trowa watched calmly as Quatre fished the offending gadget out of his pocket. Casting the stoic young man a look of apology at the intrusion, he noticed the caller was Rashid.

Cursing again, a little louder this time, Quatre pressed the answer button.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a story that I started back in 2010 (if I remember correctly). The first few chapters were posted on fanfiction.net under the same title and the account of RavenEnchantress. The project stalled due to a combination of writer's block and a lack of time. Several years later, I still want to finish this story, so I have resurrected it here with additional chapters. WARNING: This is a Quatre/Trowa focused story and I did label this as 'mature' due to potential yaoi smuttiness. No guarantees. If smut doesn't happen, the label will be removed. However, until it is completed, the label will remain.

Trowa Barton watched, quite amused, while the blonde aristocrat winced outwardly as he answered the phone, speaking rather reluctantly. "Hello." Trowa could hear the booming voice of Rashid Kurama even from where he was standing, though he couldn't quite make out any specific words. The giant of a man had the ultimate respect from the former pilot of gundam Heavyarms. 

His blonde friend had led a group of forty Middle Eastern guerrilla mobile suit pilots, led by Rashid, that frequently aided and protected Quatre (referring to him as 'Master Quatre') and his gundam Sandrock during the war between the Earth and the colonies. The two had some previous history together and Rashid had always been rather protective toward the kindhearted blonde. 

Apparently, he was still just as protective.

"I'm with Trowa," Quatre explained. He could tell Rashid was angry. He didn't yell. No. Worse than that, his adviser and friend had a quiet, simmering, disappointed type of anger. The palpable kind of anger that makes you bow your head in shame because you knew better from the start, yet you did it anyway. His voice, though never raised, roiled with anger and the blonde Arabian felt it come off the big man like the first waves before a tsunami. He was in trouble when he got home. 

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "He abducted me from school. Said he had a puppy in his nondescript black van. I went rather too willingly" he told the big man, hoping a little humor might smooth things out a bit. It usually worked.

No dice.

Rashid's admonishing voice became slightly brusquer and Quatre winced again. Oh man, he was really going to be in for it. And Rashid's lectures always made him feel like crap afterward too. "Yeah…I'm on the ferry boat right now, but we're about to dock…yeah…I will. Bye."

The click signifying an end to the call was loud, seeming to be just as angry as the disembodied voice had been. "Not good?" ventured Trowa. Quatre looked up at the taller youth, head still bowed slightly as he stared absently at the phone.

"No. Not good," responded the blonde. He sighed. Shit.

"Trying to be smart probably didn't help," Trowa told him, secretly enjoying the annoyed look his blue eyed friend was giving him. "And when did I become a kidnapper, exactly?"

Quatre smiled with a devilish look on his face. "When you picked me up in that nondescript black van," he shot back. Trowa chuckled again, causing the young Arab's knees to go weak. He was glad the ferry wasn't finished docking yet. Quatre sighed again and ran a hand through his silky blonde hair. "I should have remembered to call. It is getting rather late too."

Shortly after Rashid's call the boat had finished docking and people had begun to depart. Trowa, panda in hand, stepped forward a few paces then halted, half turning to face the blonde. Quatre picked up his school bag, placing the long shoulder strap on his left as he moved to follow the taller youth. 

"So, what's up with Rashid?" Trowa asked as they exited the ferry and walked away from the carnival pier. "I figured you would be living with one of your relatives."

Quatre shrugged. "I was, but they were all busy with their lives. Only about eight of my sisters actually work with WEI. Most of them have branched out to do their own thing. They have families of their own and, to be honest, it would have been like moving in with a stranger. I have nieces and nephews only a few years younger than me. It would have been weird and uncomfortable," he explained. "Rashid didn't have anyone to go home to after the war. He has no wife or children, so it was mutually agreed that he would be my legal guardian. I'm shocked you didn't notice that when you hacked the school's computers, Trowa. You're slipping."

Trowa grinned at the jibe but didn't rise to the bait. The living arrangement made sense when Quatre put things in perspective. It was odd to him though, that Rashid wouldn't have a family. He'd pegged the guy to have a large family with five or more kids running around. He said as much to Quatre, causing the blonde to laugh. "I thought so too, actually. He does have a sister-in-law though with a niece that we go and visit every so often," he replied.

Quatre noticed a cab parked on the side of the road and moved toward it, Trowa trailing close behind. It was fully dark and even though Quatre seemed completely at ease walking the dark streets at night, Trowa kept a watchful eye out for any potential threats. The two youths climbed into the vehicle, Quatre instructing the driver to drop them off at the parking garage where they had left the bike. 

The blonde slouched into the scratchy fabric that made up his seat, leaning his head back against the headrest. He tended to avoid cabs when he could. They were never all that comfortable. And this one is no exception, he thought miserably as the vehicle jarred this way and that through the twisting streets, but the cab would be faster than trying to walk back to Trowa’s bike.

He looked over at Trowa. The brunette was sitting back in his seat comfortably (Quatre didn't quite know how) with one leg crossed over the other, and was currently gazing at the sights of the city as they flew past. The blonde turned his gaze to the city as well, sighing imperceptibly.

Damn Rashid and his timing. 

They had been so close. So very close and Quatre thought he had felt something between them. He wasn't quite sure what that feeling was, it had been too faint to make out, but there had definitely been something there. And then it had disappeared so suddenly when his phone interrupted them. It made him wonder if there had really been anything there in the first place or if he had simply imagined it.

Quatre really didn't want Trowa to leave. In the next few days he would be too busy to visit and the circus' presence wouldn't last in Wilmington for long. He pondered what he could do to get his friends to see the circus more than once for a while before giving up the idea.

Before he knew it, the cab had parked at the garage. Quatre quickly paid the driver while Trowa let the man take the panda home to his daughter. He followed Trowa over to the bike, silently donning the helmet Trowa handed him. The blonde noticed that the ninja motorcycle's digital clock pegged the time to be twenty till ten. Rashid just might kill me, he thought sullenly as his taller friend revved the bike to life.

The bike's clock had just turned 20:07 as Trowa eased the bike into the driveway. The lanky teen killed the throttle and waited as his passenger disembarked. The blonde pulled off the helmet, silently giving it back. The helmet had disheveled his hair about and Quatre self-consciously attempted to smooth it out, but soon gave up the lost cause. Trowa couldn't help but smile at the bed head look his friend was now sporting.

The two stared at each other silently for a moment. Quatre had returned his hands in his pockets. "Don't leave without saying good bye, alright?" he asked the taller youth. Trowa nodded and Quatre's memory flashed back to a similar scene. Only it wasn't between him and Trowa, but Heero and Relena. 

Shortly after returning to Earth, Quatre and Heero had taken refuge in Relena's Sanq Kingdom. Before an impending battle ensued Relena had made Heero promise not to leave without saying goodbye to her. Heero had promptly broken that promise. Quatre held a bit more faith in Trowa.

The brunette turned the key in the ignition and drove off into the dark streets of Wilmington. Quatre sighed and looked at his current home, dreading his inescapable fate. Walking up to the door, he took a deep breath before pushing the door open and entering.

An intimidating bear of a man stood in the entryway, arms crossed over his chest. Rashid Kurama was a tall, strong, muscular man with a very neatly trimmed beard. Dressed in his usual cornflower blue shirt, dark blue vest, and white baggy harem-style pants, the veteran soldier looked as if he should be in the desert somewhere rather than standing in Quatre's European home.

Quatre felt his cheeks redden slightly under the man's intense scrutiny. "I should have called, I'm sorry," the he apologized for the second time.

"Yes, you should," came the strict, unwavering answer. After a moment of holding his charge's eyes with his own, the large Arabian's facial features softened. "Did you have a good time?" he asked, curiously.

Quatre couldn't keep a small smile from creeping across his face. "For the most part, yes," he replied as he moved to ascend the stairs leading to his bedroom.

"How long is he staying?"

Quatre stopped mid stride, halfway up the stairs. He looked down at Rashid, who had a knowing smile on his face. The big man most always seemed to know what he was thinking. "I don't know," he told him before hurrying off to his bedroom, closing the door gently behind him.

Rashid felt his heart drop at the hurt look the young blonde had given him before disappearing into his room. Ah, the heartache of young love, he thought as he walked into the living room and turned on the nightly news He hoped the young Winner heir's heart wouldn't be crushed too badly.

Mikhail Castonev watched a mobile suite demonstration his forces were performing from behind a large glass window. The military compound he was currently visiting was only one of two that he controlled. This base, Suvid, was the largest. Hosting three personnel barracks that housed soldiers, two separate factories, a large test field, and one very large office base.

It was his crown jewel and currently held the vanguard that would go up against the ESUN. The other base was much smaller, but housed a still impressive attack striker force. The sheer number of mobile suites he had been able to salvage and build right under the Preventers' noses had been more than he had anticipated. The Russian was supremely confident that they could be able to take the Middle East and China.

And with that much power under him, he would be able to stand against the ESUN and barter goods and natural resources, effectively making him a very rich, powerful man.

Castonev called one of his generals to him. The man, twenty years Castonev's junior, hurried over to his commander. "Yes, sir," he asked.

"General, I do believe we are ready to make our move," he told the younger man.

"Assemble all of my generals on this base in my conference room. Also, send word to Lugvid that I want them to assemble as well. I will converse with that facility by conference linked vid screens. Have everything ready by o seven hundred tomorrow. I will speak to them then," he ordered, not even bother to look at his subordinate.

Castonev heard the man's heels click together smartly and acknowledge his orders before walking briskly out of the room. The Russian smiled. Tomorrow, everything would change.

The base was a flurry of activity as Preventers Officers Sally Po and Chang Wufei watched from a careful distance, hidden by dense trees, shrubs, and large rocky outcroppings. The terrain here hadn't been easy to traverse, especially when speed and secrecy were high priorities. But the two had arrived yesterday morning, at what seemed to be the perfect time.

Alternating between resting and watching the base through powerful binoculars, the duo had been able to decipher that this base, in regards to the others, was the largest and most highly defended. Also, the activity had stepped up to a buzzing frenzy throughout the day. Mobile Suites had arrived, swelling their numbers to close to ninety-five hundred at this location alone. The other contained maybe half that.There preparations were not defensive, but offensive. It seemed as if they were preparing for an impending battle, which obviously meant that the ESUN was about to be attacked.

Now, as dusk settled over their small campsite, the blonde haired, blue eyed Chinese woman looked over at her partner, who was busy packing up their scant supplies. They needed to get out of enemy territory and warn Lady Une before the Republic struck, giving the ESUN some chance to defend themselves. The main question at this point was when would it happen? Would they attempt one more conversation with ESUN politicians or would they simply strike without warning? Sally certainly hoped it was the former.

"What do you think Wufei," she asked, looking back over her shoulder in the direction of the military compound, as she shouldered the small pack the teenager had given her. "Warning or no warning?"

Wufei threw his pack across his back and looked back at Sally, who had turned around once again to face him. "They'll probably attack without warning. We know they'll attack but not when. It gives them an advantage. By the time the Preventers realize what's going on and get organized, we'll have suffered a heavy blow. Home field advantage would be lost and without the gundams to take on the immediate threat…" Wufei trailed off as the pair began their trek back to their hidden aircraft.

Sally knew where his train of thought was going and, though she didn't like it, agreed about its accuracy. If they couldn't get the word to Lady Une and the ESUN before the Republic struck and the gundams came into the game too late, they'd be screwed.

The violent sounds of battle were over. Men and women alike screaming in agony, calling for their loved ones in their last dying breaths, cursing the enemy that had brought about their end. Twisted metal, wreckage from hundreds of mobile suites, littered the black empty void of space. What was left of their pilots floated grotesquely about the quiet emptiness.

No one had survived. Everyone was dead.

He was alone. He screamed. Screamed for the loss of lives, hundreds of souls wrenched so cruelly from their frail human bodies. He screamed for his loneliness.

No one heard him. There was no response.

Time seemed both nonexistent and eternal. Perhaps time had even stopped. He didn't know. He wandered mindlessly through space. Everywhere he went he saw destruction amidst the vast nothingness that was outer space. Even the stars seemed less bright, dimmed in a silent lament to the fallen.

A piece of his mind wondered if he was in fact dead himself, his fractured soul condemned to wander alone for eternity. Or perhaps he was Death itself, gazing upon the fruition of his labor.

Yes, that was it. He remembered now.

War was raging. Everything was being destroyed in the process. Nothing had been spared in the ferocious battle. Their precious mother Earth was dying as a result of their squabbles and space was its graveyard.

Petulant humans were never satisfied, always finding some new excuse to kill each other, glorifying in the deaths of the weak. He had joined the fight, believing in his cause and that that cause was pure and true.

At least, that's what he had thought before he realized the truth. Ah, truth. The truth was always painful. The truth he had discovered was that humans would never stop fighting. In reality, they were no better than the animals they caged. Only those animals didn't have the power to destroy the hand that fed them. For their own sake and for that of Earth and Space, Death had to take them.

And that's exactly what he had done.

Duo Maxwell bolted upright into a sitting position, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. A cold sweat had him shivering despite the many blankets that covered his body, which now hung limp about his waist.

He glanced over at the silent alarm clock that sat plainly on the small nightstand beside his bed. 5:38 am. The brown haired pilot, sighed, closing his cobalt blue eyes to the world. What a nightmare, he thought as he clasped his arms above his head and stretched. He yawned before looking back at the clock. 5:39. No point in attempting to go back to sleep, he thought with slight irritation. He had to get up in twenty minutes anyway.

Duo dragged himself out of bed and walked through the hallway, eventually coming to a door at the end. Gently opening the door, he peeked in. Hilde Schbeiker was sleeping peacefully, sprawled rather attractively Duo noticed, across her full size bed. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he closed the door and headed down stairs. At least he hadn't woken her up. She worried about the long haired ex-gundam pilot when he had nightmares.

Starting the coffee machine, Duo made himself some toast for breakfast. Looking out the window he noticed the lights in the colony were slowly beginning to brighten, rising its inhabitants to a new day.

The god of death shuddered at what the day might bring. Something told him it wouldn't be anything good.


	6. Chapter 6

Quatre groaned as the alarm clock sounded in his ear. Damned thing. It had just interrupted a rather steamy dream he had been having, involving a certain clown. An arm extended from underneath the blankets, groping around thoughtlessly until finally coming in contact with its target and, once dealt with, slowly retreated back into the warm downy depths.

The young Winner heir drifted back into his fantasy.

After roughly an hour without hearing any sort of noise coming from what should have been a rather noisy teenager, Rashid pulled himself out of bed and plodded groggily toward his young master's room. Quatre rarely slept in, but when he did, he really slept in.

The burly man gently pushed open the door, revealing that Quatre was, indeed, still curled up in bed. A small tuft of yellow was the only visible aspect of the boy. Rashid walked over to the side of the bed, leaning down with his hands into the soft mattress. "Wake up, Master Quatre or you'll be late for school," he informed the sleeping mass.

The quilted heap rustled underneath him briefly before a single crystal blue eye glared at him none too kindly. "You're already going to have to run to catch the tram." Realization flooded the brilliant orb and in an instant Quatre was sitting up in bed, blinking away the sleep from his eyes and staring in bewilderment at the clock on his night stand. The sudden movement forced Rashid to step quickly back in order to avoid getting knocked over.

"I slept in?" he asked in surprise, running a hand thoughtfully through his mess of hair. He was such a bed head in the morning. Oh, yeah…he thought as he remembered. A slight pink tinted his face. Rashid, it seemed, was not awake enough to either notice or care.

"Apparently," replied the big man, turning around and trudging out the door. "I'm going back to bed". Quatre forced down a laugh as the man exited his room. Rashid was in a good mood this morning. He usually got pretty cranky when he was forced to wake the blonde if he overslept.

The young aristocrat was through the shower, dressed and ready to go in record time. He was forced to grab only an apple for breakfast to eat on the tram. His hair was still damp as he sprinted out the door.

He arrived at Wilmington Academy, much to his own surprise, on time. The blonde was still catching his breath as he approached his group of friends. Maria was the first to notice his slightly harried appearance. "Sleep in?" came the morning greeting. It was more of a statement than a question. Quatre shrugged.

"It happens sometimes."

"Ditching us is something new though entirely," accused Todd acidly. The look on the guy's face was malevolent. Quatre was taken aback.

"Well, you've obviously survived the experience," he replied coldly, giving Todd a stern gaze. "Honestly, I don't have to be with you guys all the time".

"It's alright, Quatre" soothed Thomas. "You know how Todd is. Eric'll kick his prick ass later. Nobody else is upset with you, but we are all very curious as to who that handsome young man was that whisked you away from us."

Quatre couldn't help but smile as steadfast Thomas defused the tense situation. Everyone in school had a suspicion that future Ivy Leaguer Thomas Pattenson preferred guys, though he had never admitted to it. He purposefully left his sexuality rather ambiguous, often making comments that suggested to the blonde that he swung both ways. It was just another reason Quatre liked him so much.

"He's a friend." Quatre explained casually, fixing his eyes on Maria. "I just haven't seen him in almost a year. That's all."

The feisty Spaniard gave him a shrewd look, the sparkle in her eyes told him he was caught. "Mm hmm," she commented with a sniff. "Right, you think we're really that stupid? It's written all over your face. You like him."

"Well, yeah. He is my friend. I think there would be a problem if I didn't like him," Quatre quipped, in a last ditch attempt to throw her off. The smiles plastered on everyone's faces confirmed his fears. They weren't buying it.

"Smart ass, you know what I mean," accused Maria. "So you haven't told him then?"

Quatre shook his head, dropping his gaze to the ground. "Is it really that obvious," he asked with a sigh.

Jaime chimed in with a sympathetic look. "Yeah, honey. It kinda is."

Quatre sighed again and rolled his eyes in defeat. The others laughed and the lovesick blonde couldn't help but smile.

Sally Po and Wufei had just exited enemy territory over the Republic and were headed on the fastest route back to their Preventers headquarters. At the moment they were currently communicating directly with Lady Une over a vid screen. "…organizing themselves for an attack. They're mobilizing faster than we expected," reported Sally.

"The largest front will most likely attack the Preventers' main force in Europe while smaller forces target Preventers' resistance near the areas they want to take control of. The Middle East will be a target for sure. Their oil reserves are still plentiful and would be monetarily very beneficial to the Republic. China and India too, for there silk trades, no doubt," added Wufei.

The beautiful Preventers' commander nodded thoughtfully, her caramel colored hair bobbing across her shoulders as she took in the information and calculated it in her mind. Coming from a strong military background, having worked for the OZ organization directly under Treize Khushrenada, Lady Une could see very well just how dangerous the Republic of Eurussia was right now.

Though most of the Preventers' mobile suite soldiers where veterans from the war with the colonies in AC 195 and the Mariemaia Incident only a year previous, they were few and, most likely, less prepared than those soldiers chomping at the bit to start the fight over in the Republic.  
The Preventers' numbers totaled maybe slightly over four thousand, by Une's rough estimation and according to Sally and Wufei's information that meant that they were outnumbered five to one. 

The odds weren't horrible. The Lady had gone into battle with less and had come out victorious. But the soldiers they had were not all OZ Specials officers nor were they all gundam pilots. Despite the confidence she had in her people, she didn't like the idea of going up against the Republic with the current odds. She felt like they were bluffing in a poker tournament with a two pair against the house's straight flush.

"I'll send operatives to pick up the other three. Get back here as safely and quickly as possible," she told them before terminating the connection and calling upon her personal aide. A tall middle aged woman with legs up to her neck answered the summons immediately. She stood just inside the Lady's closed office door, expectantly awaiting her orders.

Lady Une rose from her plush leather chair that resided behind a large natural wooden desk of dark mahogany and walked over to the glass window. Gazing out across the lawn of the Preventers' base, she watched the wind play delightedly with the grass and trees. 

"Send three of our best agents to approach gundam pilots zeros two, three, and four. Make sure they know that they are Preventers and not with the Republic, otherwise we might not get them back," she ordered crisply. The former OZ colonel heard the door quietly open and click shut. She knew her orders would be carried out to the letter. She only hoped she could get the pilots in time to make a difference.

Quatre's mind was wandering again. It was becoming something of a bad habit with him lately. As much as he tried, he couldn't tear his mind away from Trowa Barton in order to concentrate on school. His friends, whenever they had a class with him, would glance over at the blonde and smile knowingly at the vacant expression on his face.

Currently they were in Human Anatomy and Physiology and Quatre vaguely remembered the professor mentioning something about the cardiovascular system. The nasally voice of the headmaster's secretary clamored over the loudspeaker in the classroom, "Quatre Raberba Winner to the office. Quatre Raberba Winner to the office."

That got his attention.

He looked up quizzically at the professor who shrugged. "Get it over with and come on back as soon as you can. There's stuff in this lecture that'll be on next week's test and I'd rather you not miss it." He was met with multiple taunting "uh oh's" as he gathered his things together, walked down the aisle between desks and out the door. Quatre caught the surprised, yet curious faces of Suzzie and Eric as he walked past.

The blonde wondered what they could possibly need him for down in the office as he stepped briskly down the corridors. A and P was not a class he enjoyed getting out of for any reason, despite his recent bout of daydreaming. 

His question was answered immediately as the headmaster's secretary ushered him into the man's personal office. Rashid was standing just to the side of the elder man's desk, a grim expression etched upon his face. The headmaster looked a bit confused.

Quatre glanced from Rashid over to the headmaster and back again. "What's going on?" he asked no one in particular.

"I'm pulling you out," Rashid explained in a stern no-questions tone of voice. Quatre felt his heart plummet. 

That was bad. Very, very bad.

"Rashid here has informed me that your family is having some sort of emergency and that you must be present, especially since it directly involves WEI, though he won't elaborate any further" explained the headmaster, bringing the blonde's attention back onto him. The old man obviously smelled something fishy, but what could he really do about it? 

Quatre closed his eyes. Rashid was covering something up and he had a sickening feeling he knew exactly what it was. "I've told the headmaster to make sure lecture copies and homework from all of your classes are held until you return," the big man told him as he placed a large, calloused hand on his shoulder and gently directed him out through the headmaster's and secretary's doors and into the hallway.

Quatre said not a word until the two of them were sitting in Rashid's pickup truck, driving in the direction of the airport. "How bad?" he asked, discarding his academic blazer and tie as he stared out the window. He wanted to take in as much of beautiful Wilmington as he could before flying off into God knew what mess.

"Lady Une is calling all of you in. Some upstart operative came by the house, said something about the Republic massing for an offensive strike and needing more aces up their sleeves…which means you," the giant Arab explained. 

The tone in his voice was hard, forced. Quatre glanced up at him. Since taking on the responsibility of being his legal guardian, Rashid had melded into a pseudo-father figure to the blonde and that fatherly need to protect was evident on the big man's face. Quatre felt a heavy pang of guilt, mixed with Rashid's concern, fear, and simmering anger.

"You knew this was going to happen," the blonde told him kindly, hoping to give his adviser some comfort. He loved Rashid and felt that love more acutely in this moment than ever before. Funny, he thought to himself, that we should feel our most precious emotions the strongest right before they may be torn away from us.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," he growled back. "He wanted to come take you out of school himself."

Quatre heard the self-satisfaction creep into the older man's voice. The youth grinned, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Oh no, Rashid. What did you tell him?"

Rashid smiled and stole a glance down at his young master before returning his eyes to the road. "Just that he could stick it up his you know what and that he could go meet us at the airport while I pick you up myself. I think I might have offended the poor man's sensibilities," he replied, sounding a bit too pleased with himself.

Quatre shook his head with a smile.

The rest of the ride to the airport was lost in silence however, Quatre watching the ocean break against the ruggedly picturesque coastline while Rashid brooded unhappily.

Upon arriving, a short, stocky man greeted Quatre with a warm, but no-nonsense smile. He shot Rashid a quick, but spiteful glare as the big Arabian retrieved a large duffel bag from the bed of the truck. 

"Name's Jimmy Monahan. I'll be escorting you to Lady Une," he explained as the three of them made their way through the airport. Jimmy's Preventers' credentials sweeping them through security and customs. The guy kept talking as they went. "We've already got your friend all set in the plane." Quatre's heart fluttered excitedly at the mention of what had to be Trowa. "We're just waiting on you. The last guy's already on his way, but won't meet arrive at base until after us."

Finally, the trio reached the departure terminal where Rashid and Quatre paused to face each other. Jimmy wisely continued on until he was just inside the tunnel, giving the two some privacy. Rashid gently pulled Quatre's school bag off his shoulder, which had noticeably tagged along, and handed him the duffel bag.

"I took the liberty of getting some of your things together. There's all the things you'll immediately need in there, including two very handy semi-automatics and some spare clips," he said as he gazed down protectively at the young man he had come to view as a son. 

The phrase 'they grow up too fast' came to mind as he sized up the young Winner heir. It seemed to him as if he was now really seeing him for the first time in a long while. The blonde was almost completely grown up and the older Arab didn't have to look down quite as much as he used to.

Quatre smiled confidently at his friend, mentor and confidante. He knew this was hard on the man. Rashid had been thrilled when Quatre had decided to try to have as normal a life as possible. Watching him go off to fight in another war must be cruelty to him. "It'll be fine, Rashid. Don't worry too much. We'll go out, have some target practice, blow up some things, and everything will get back to normal in no time."

Rashid couldn't help but smile, a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. The young aristocrat had developed a bit of cockiness too it seemed. "Don't get reckless. I want you to come back alive," he warned, his voice catching with emotion that was quickly getting hard to suppress. "I'll take care of things here. The others will want to fight too, but getting everyone together may be tricky. I'll send word to you when I can."

"But Rashid…" started Quatre as the realization of what Rashid was saying quickly dawned on him. The blonde didn't want the Maguanacs to take up arms again just because he was. However, Rashid seemed to know exactly where he was going and with a shake of his head, held up a hand to stop the youth from continuing.

"Honestly, did you think we wouldn't?" he asked. "Master Quatre, you should know better by now."

Quatre promptly shut his mouth and smiled sheepishly. "Thanks Rashid." In the background he heard Jimmy tentatively clear his throat.

The big man stepped back a pace, looking hard at the blonde. He'd procrastinated letting him go long enough. "Go on. The sooner you get there the better prepared you'll be. I'll meet up with you when I can."

With sadness and regret, Quatre tossed the duffel bag across his shoulder and joined Jimmy in the terminal tunnel, leaving Rashid to stare unwillingly as his charge all too readily walked off toward an uncertain and most dangerous future.

The Arabian waited until the plane was out of site before leaving the airport. He had a lot of work to do and time was against him.


	7. Chapter 7

The blonde followed Jimmy past the pilots of the little plane and into the cabin area. It was a smaller plane than he had expected. It was nothing more than a puddle jumper really, housing two rows of three seats on each side of the cramped plane.

It was so nondescript on the inside that he didn't have a doubt that the aircraft was even more nondescript on the outside. Certainly it wouldn't have any Preventers' identifying marks. Quatre was certain that the government agency had kept this plane appearing as common and uninteresting as they could.

The seventeen-year-old was not surprised to notice that two seats were already taken. He noticed first a rather ordinary looking man. Quatre pegged him in his late thirties or early forties. He had brown hair, brown eyes, average height and build with easily twenty extra pounds on him.

Completely uninteresting and ordinary. The stranger looked just like any average Joe on the street. Quatre wouldn't have been able to pick him out of a line up if he'd tried. Obviously sensing eyes on him, Average Joe looked up from the stack of papers he had been studying and gave the youngster a large smile.

"Hey kid!" he called in a warm greeting. His smile was as unremarkable as the rest of him. Quatre wasn't surprised. "Glad you got here alright. Jimmy just about threw a fit when your friend just about tossed him out of the house" he said with an amused chuckle. "Not that we're expecting any trouble getting you kids where you need to be, but still...Gave old Jimbo a right fit.”

Quatre kindly gave the man a small grin in response. He really didn't feel like carrying on in idle chit chat, but neither did he want to come off as unapproachable either. "I'm Mark Casey, by the way,” he continued as he stood up in the cramped seat to shake Quatre’s hand. “Jimmy's partner. Nice to meet you, though I wish I didn't have to…if you catch my meaning" he continued.

Average name too, the blonde thought. Shock.

Jimmy promptly took a seat beside his partner and began discussing something quietly with the man. Quatre took the hint and walked over to the row with the only other occupant. Trowa was sitting comfortably, one leg draped over the other in his usual stance and reclining slightly in his seat. Quatre idly thought the young man would have been perfectly comfortable sleeping on a cold rock. Quatre shook his head in amazement.

He took the seat closest to the isle, leaving a seat between them. Quatre couldn't help but think of his dream earlier in the morning as he sat near the older youth. The blonde felt his face redden slightly at the thought and was immediately grateful that his friend was currently sleeping.

A vibrant green eye sprang open to stare at the younger blonde. Trowa could feel an awkwardness emanating from the smaller pilot. He frowned inwardly. That wasn't like Quatre.

The taller youth watched Quatre stare idly past the two Preventers officers, oblivious to the fact that his friend was now awake. Most people would have missed the hints: the slightly darker shade of his eyes, the rigidity in his back that was more than just the byproduct of good posture, and the barely perceptible tenseness in his muscles that shouldn't normally exist.

They were minute changes. But they were there nonetheless and Trowa was keenly aware of them. For Quatre to consciously keep something that was bothering him to himself and to leave a space between them…something was wrong.

"Alright, Quatre?" he asked.

The other gundam pilot jumped in his seat, suddenly pulled out of his thoughts. "Huh? What?" Quatre asked in surprise as his head whipped around to look at his friend.

 

______________________________________________________________________________

"Are you alright?" repeated Trowa, a little slower this time to allow Quatre's flustered mind to digest the simple question.

"Oh, sorry Trowa" Quatre replied. "I was just lost in thought. Yes, I'm alright" the blonde assured him.

The brunette nodded at his friend's explanation, even though he didn't completely buy it. There was more to his discomfort than he was letting on. Trowa was not about to let Quatre off the hook that easily. "That may be true, but there's more than that." Trowa prodded. "Something's bothering you, Quatre. What is it?"

That elicited a small frown from the blonde. "Nothing's wrong Trowa" he insisted. "Look what situation we're in" he instructed the other pilot. "Considering the state of things, I'm fine. Really."

And with that Quatre flashed him that million-dollar Winner family smile. It made the young man melt. He knew right then that Quatre had just won that round. There was not a doubt in his mind that something was not sitting completely right with the handsome young blonde though. He wasn't about to just let the matter drop. However, now was not the place to pursue the matter. He'd have to talk to Quatre about it later. Privately.  
Privately. That line of thinking took his mind somewhere it shouldn't have gone and soon enough it was the reserved brunette who was lost in his own thoughts.

Quatre smiled to himself as he noticed Trowa recess into himself. Quatre inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He was relieved that Trowa had let the conversation drop. The last thing he really wanted to confess to Trowa about was his impure thoughts regarding his friend and comrade in arms.

To be honest, it was a conversation he would rather avoid at all costs at the moment. Not only did he believe that Trowa was as straight as an arrow, but he felt that a distraction like that, and the tension that would undoubtedly follow such a confession, could possibly jeopardize their effectiveness to work together as a team. Quatre shuddered at that possibility.

No. It was too risky at the present. The blonde would keep his feelings to himself and his mouth shut.

Quatre turned his gaze over to the two Preventers and allowed his mind to play through all of the possible moves that the Republic might make. Needless to say he didn't like any of them. The fight they were about to enter would be a hard one.

Suddenly the engines fired up below their feet and the captain boomed across the intercom, instructing everyone to fasten their seat belts and enjoy the ride. Trowa was thrust out of his reverie as he felt the plane move and taxi out to the runway. In another minute he felt himself pushed back slightly in his seat as the plane left the ground.

In only a couple of hours they would be in a war zone.  
_______________________________________________________________________

Castonev sat in his luxurious conference room, surrounded by most of his generals. Ten battle-tested men sat around the large Royal Oak table. Another twelve were currently occupying four large TVs located on the side walls of the room. Three generals were situated in each TV that were linked to Lugvid, located near China.

They were discussing strategy and tactics to use against the ESUN. Forces would be ready to move out in less than twenty-four hours. They would hit hard and hit fast. The ultimate goal was to break down the Preventers' strength in the Middle East and parts of Asia.

The largest strike would be wholesale frontal assault into the Middle East. Even with the increased use of renewable energy sources, petrol fuel and nuclear power still operated major refining plants and continued to be a highly profitable global commodity. Castonev had his sights on harnessing that wealth. With the bulk of the Preventers' forces being occupied by Castonev's vanguard from Suvid, his other base would unleash their forces into China in order to control the territory there with its large manual labor force and technology industries.

Once those areas had been sufficiently taken, he would ease his assault on the Preventers. His goal was not total domination of the Earth or to overthrow the entire Preventers' forces and usurp the ESUN. It was simply to push them out of prized territory. After the onslaught was over, Castonev intended to come to an agreement with the ESUN to allow the Russian to keep the newly acquired territory so long as no further militaristic actions were taken against the ESUN.

Yes, it was a good plan.

Castonev smiled to himself as he dismissed his generals. Their faces reflected his own visage, that of supreme confidence in the knowledge that nothing could stand in their way.

_____________________________________________________________________

The flight was going to be a short one, less than three hours total, and thankfully Quatre seemed to have shaken off whatever had been bothering him allowing the two of them to try to map out Eurussia’s motivations and subsequent moves through game theory. Trowa felt himself relax at Quatre’s positive mood return. The uninhabited seat was still between them, though now it held various pieces of scrap paper as the pair tried to visualize potential motivations, moves, and counter moves.

He had to admit, he hadn’t expected Eurussia to have moved this fast. He had expected them to play a much longer game. If it had been him, he would have waited for the dust to settle after the ESUN had learned about their mobile suits, give everyone in the world time to accept the formation of Eurussia so that its very existence seemed harmless. He said as much to Quatre.

“They must be after something pretty badly in order to press the ESUN. So long as they remained peaceful, the ESUN was much less likely to make any aggressive moves,” his blonde friend contemplated out loud, staring intently at an already highly scribbled piece of paper between them. “What would they need that quickly?”

Trowa thought hard for a while. Straight military power didn’t seem to fit as a singular motivation. Quatre had agreed with him. If Eurussia’s concern wasn’t militaristic at its core, what could it be? What would a place like Eurussia need?

Resources.

Trowa felt a flicker of realization start to coalesce in the back of his head. “Quatre, what are Russia’s top resources?”

Quatre’s bright blue eyes met his questioningly. “Petroleum is the biggest. Coal, steel, natural minerals, and timber are in the top five. Why?”

“Think about it,” he replied. “They already took Georgia, Kazakhstan, and Mongolia. They have to control, what, twenty percent of the world’s oil already?”

Quatre furrowed his brow in thought as he stared hard at him from across the paper-filled seat. “Sounds about right. Which means...”

“And they’re sitting right up against the rest of the Middle East and China.”

Though he didn’t say it, a holy shit look crossed Quatre’s face. “They’re going after the Middle East.”

Trowa nodded. “And China more likely than not.”

Quatre excitedly pulled out a tablet Rashid had sent with him and pulled up a world map. “Look,” he said, pointing to specific former countries. “If they capture Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Oman, Euruissia would control at least half of all oil production. It sounds harder than it would be in reality. Since most areas have completely abandoned large weapons like mobile suits, Eurussia wouldn’t have that difficult of a time seizing control.”

“And China is a large trading partner for them. Capturing China would only increase their bargaining power with the rest of the world and the colonies.” Trowa and Quatre looked at each other as the weight of their epiphany settled. Trowa leaned forward, looking around Quatre and across the aisle at Jimmy and Mark.

“When will we be landing?” he asked.

Jimmy glanced down at his watch. “Maybe thirty minutes.”

Quatre shared a look with him before meeting the Preventer’s stare. “We’re going to need to speak with Lady Une right away.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first full chapter that was not posted on fanfiction.net nor has it been read by a beta tester, so I would really like to know what people think of this one. I hope you all enjoy it.

They weren’t able to communicate with Lady Une directly, but Jimmy and Mark were able to get a message to her regarding their hypothesis while en route from the airport and the Preventer base. They had landed in the eastern part of the Ukraine. They were gathering right in Eurussia’s shadow.

The base wasn’t big by the looks of it, with only a moderately sized main building and what looked to be two small storage facilities, and Quatre wondered if it would be able to mount a sizeable resistance against Eurussian forces. Mark, definitely the more affable of the their escorts, seemed to follow his thinking. “Don’t let her fool you,” he told him. “She might not look like much, but she has an important job to do and do it she will.”

Trowa, who had been sitting silently next to Quatre, crossed his arms and closed his eyes as they were waved through the gate. “I think your confidence may be misplaced.”

Mark guffawed loudly as his partner put his foot on the gas, driving them forward. The two Preventers dropped them off at the front with the typical good luck handshake as the two former gundam pilots gathered their bags from the car. 

Trowa carried his bag easily over his shoulder as the pair made their way up the flight of low-rise stairs that led up to the glass office doors. Trowa held the door open for him as Quatre approached, the taller pilot’s long legs crossing the threshold distance faster than Quatre’s. They walked a few feet forward, Trowa in lock step a few paces behind him, to another set of doors. Quatre returned the favor as Trowa stepped through and into what was obviously a main reception area. 

Just as Quatre stepped in to be next to Trowa, they both caught the sight of their fellow gundam pilot, Chang Wufei. Quatre smiled. It looked like he was going to get that reunion after all, though he wished the circumstances were different.

“Hey Wufei!”   
________________________________________________________________

He had been standing next to the reception desk as he waited for his partner Sally Po to make a phone call when he noticed Quatre and Trowa walk up the steps and come through the doors. The two had obviously arrived together and they seemed effortlessly synchronized in their movements. Wufei filed that observation in the back of his head.

The circumstances didn’t seem to put a damper on Quatre’s excitement at seeing him. His smile was almost carefree as he left slow moving Trowa behind, opting to run up to the Chinese pilot. “So you’re here too. Do you know when the others will arrive?” he asked.

Wufei eyes the blonde critically, noting how less baby-like he looked. The last two years as a civilian seemed to have treated him well. “We’re meeting in half an hour, but Heero and Duo are still en route. They won’t be here for another few hours, so they’ll be tuning in via vidscreen.” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Hey Wufei,” Trowa said quietly. Wufei nodded in response. 

He felt Sally Po walk up behind him. “Hi you guys,” she greeted the two newcomers. “Long time no see.”

Quatre’s facial expression saddened somewhat. “I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

“We always knew the beginning would be rocky, but even after the Mariemaia Incident, we weren’t expecting another situation like this so soon.”

“The shocking part is the amount of mobile suits they were able to salvage,” he added. “We had thought we had gotten all of them two years ago, but evidently not. The good news is they don’t have Tauros suits as the media reported.”

“We’ll cover it all in the briefing in a few minutes,” Sally said. “For now, let’s get you two settled.”

__________________________________________________________________

Sally Po had led them to the officers quarters, where they were able to deposit their bags before following her to the meeting. Wufei had gone straight there to prepare.

“How bad is it?” Quatre asked.

“It won’t be easy that’s for sure,” she replied. “Wufei is right. They don’t have tauros suits, but they do have a surprising number of Leo and Virgo and with our own diminished numbers, we should expect to be hard pressed.”

“And this time there is no bringing back the gundams,” added Trowa. Quatre looked over at his friend before staring down at the floor as they walked through the hallway.

Last time, when Mariemaia had revealed her own stash of mobile suits and had started an armed conflict, Quatre had been able to take a spaceship and retrieve three of the five gundams, which they had sent on a one-way trip into the sun. The maneuver had been risky and Quatre had almost lost his life getting onto the gundams’ shuttle, but he had made it, successfully turning it around just in time for the gundams to fight back against Mariemaia’s oppressive forces.

This time, there were no gundams to rescue and bring back. Believing that the gundams were no longer needed, all five pilots had destroyed their gundams. The superior mobile suits that had allowed the five gundam pilots to successfully fight against a significantly larger number of normal mobile suits were no longer available. The advantage the Preventers would have against the Eurussian forces would be mostly dependant on superior piloting skills and their use of the newer and more agile Tauros suits. 

 

Quatre worried that the upcoming battle would be more difficult than they had experienced previously.

“So Quatre,” Sally Po said, getting his attention. “I hear you’re in high school.”

“Uh yeah,” he responded uncertainly. The sudden topic change to something as normal as high school caught him off guard. 

“When do you graduate?”

“Spring.” 

“Top of your class?”

Quatre caught Sally’s eye as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Yeah…”

Sally Po chuckled. “Not surprising. Where are you looking to go?”

“MIT or Stanford.”

“No pressure or anything,” quipped Trowa with a smirk as he put his hands in his pockets.

Quatre shot the taller pilot a playful glare as Sally led them into the conference room. It was small like the rest of the base. There were few windows and the walls were mostly bereft of decoration. The plastic fold down chairs teetered as the three gundam pilots and Sally sat down at the foldable table. The place certainly didn’t look like it had been used much in the three years since the ESUN was formed. 

The large TV that hung against the far wall was already on with two teenage boys looking back at the rest of the group. Both had dark brown hair, but where one had short hair, the other’s was long and kept in a braid. 

“Hey Heero. Duo,” Quatre said excitedly at the presence of his friends. Duo, crazy braid and all, had visited him over the summer last year, but the two hadn’t been able to see each other since. Duo had a relaxed air about him and a happy-go-lucky smile. He was the kind of guy who you could always have fun with. The two had become fast friends after the war between the Earth and the colonies. 

Heero on the other hand, was prickly and quiet. Though not anti-social, he was the kind of person one had to get used to if you were going to hand around him. Heero preferred to keep his emotions to himself and had a history of letting his guard down to only a select few individuals. 

The two were obviously in a space shuttle, though the bright natural light that seemed to fill the cabin indicated that they had already made it through the Earth’s atmosphere. 

Duo smiled widely as reticent Heero sat and stared into the conference room with his arms crossed in front of him. “Hey Quatre buddy! How’s it going?”

Quatre was just about to respond when a slender brunette walked in with some folders, which she handed out. Despite being dressed in a civilian business suit, she had the confident air of control about her. He had never met her in person before, yet Quatre recognized her as Lady Une, former Colonel within the military force OZ and current leader of the Preventers peacekeeping force. 

“Thanks for coming in everybody,” she said as she took a seat at the head of the table and looked at everyone seated. Her voice was soft, but carried weight. 

“As you all know, ever since the Republic of Eurussia seceded from the ESUN we have been watching them closely and a few days ago, they claimed to have mobile suits. With this announcement, we fear that Eurussia’s intention is hostile.”

She looked in his and Trowa’s direction. “Trowa and Quatre, you think you know what their plans are?”

“Yes,” he said. “Their targets are China and the Middle East. Specifically the areas that were formerly known as Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, the UAE, and Oman. Control of these areas would increase Eurussia’s current oil reserves to over 50 percent.”

“Combined with control over Chinese exports, the Eurussians would have a solid economic support system, making it much less likely to self-collapse,” continued Trowa.

Quatre took the lead again. “Right now, they have 20 percent of the world’s oil. That’s solid enough to have an impact, but if Eurussia does something the ESUN doesn’t like, it can tap into the other 60 percent that resides within ESUN areas. If Eurussia wants more resources in order to make demands as an equal nation, they are going to have to forcibly invade these areas.”

Trowa crossed his arms over his chest, much like Heero, and leaned back in his chair slightly. “The point is we know where they’re going.”

“Our surveillance supports that theory,” Wufei said as he pressed a button. The screen changed. The picture of Heero and Duo shrunk and slid into a corner. In their place was a large photograph of what appeared to be military movements.

“These were taken within the last three days,” Wufei said as more pictures appeared on the screen. “There seems to be three main bases. One in the heart of Eurussia which we have established as Suvid, one on the Georgian border with former Turkey, and one where former Russia, Kazakhastan, and Mongolia meet with China.” 

“The last several days have seen a significant number of Aries, Leo, and Virgo suits. Our estimation is that they have nearly 2000 suits total,” Sally Po added. “It seems likely that Eurussia was looking for any mobile suit they could salvage, so their suits may not be as structurally sound as they want us to believe.

“We won’t know that until we fight them,” Heero countered dryly. 

Sally tipped her head in agreement. “We are already seeing several hundred suits from Suvid moving in the direction of China. We expect them to breach the Chinese border within a couple of days,” Wufei added.

“I agree with your assessments and our own forces are on their way to intercept Eurussia as we speak. We have roughly 100 mobile suits, primarily Taurus models,” said Lady Une. “If we are careful we should be able to hold them off. Aiding us will be three new ships.”

The room went silent at Lady Une’s announcement. Quatre and Trowa exchanged glances. Three new ships? But how? Eurussia had just claimed independence within the last month. There is no way the ESUN could have built a battleship in response, let alone three.

Lady Une pushed a button and Wufei’s surveillance photographs were replaced by two pictures. The first and most impressive was a multi-level space ship with four diamond compartments connected by a circular center. 

Quatre couldn’t help the shudder that ran down his spine. It looked like an almost carbon copy of the battleship Libra that the gundam pilots had to fight against during the war with the colonies. Commanded by former OZ ace pilot Zechs Marquis, Libra had almost destroyed the earth before the five gundam pilots along with the Maquanac Corp and the brave crew of the support ship Peacemillion had defied the odds to destroy Libra.

It wasn’t a fight Quatre wanted to experience again.

“Is that Libra?” Duo asked incredulously, voicing what everyone in the room was thinking.

“This is the Axiom,” answered lady Une. “It was designed as a mobile command center for the Mars Project, but given the current circumstances, it has been temporarily modified to act as the flagship in this conflict with Eurussia. It has limited armaments on the perimeter for self-defense purposes only. Even now, it is not designed as a battleship.” 

“And the other two?” asked Heero.

“Are two support ships, which like the Axiom, were quickly modified from their intended use in the Mars Project. They are called Pier One and Pier Two. They can hold up to eight mobile suits at once or anything smaller that has docking capacity. They are designed as mobile repair and medical services units. All three ships will be used in our efforts to fight Eurussia, though they will not take part in the fighting.”

“As for you gundam pilots, we don’t have gundams for you to use; however, we were able to save some gundanium alloy and use it to modify the armor on select Taurus suits. These suits are located on this base. Sally Po can show you them to you.” 

Lady Une looked around the room before continuing “Tomorrow, you gundam pilots will meet our main Preventer force in Turkey. You will push back the Eurussian forces and once the area is considered stable, you will do the same along the Chinese border. That is all.”

Quatre quickly rose from his seat, placing his hands on the table, and leaning toward Lady Une. “Lady Une!”

The former colonel paused, considering him for a moment. “Yes?”

“The Maquanac Corp is situated in Saudi Arabia. I am sure you are aware that they were given special permission to keep their mobile suits for historical purposes if they permanently disabled any weapons systems.”

“Yes, and I remember very acutely that they were formidable opponents, especially with you at their lead,” came the patient reply.

Quatre wasn’t entirely sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or a residual dig from a former OZ officer. “My friend Rashid is currently on his way to them as we speak. The Maquancs will want to fight. If they can meet up with these mobile repair units, will you accept them?”

Lady Une smiled. “We need all the help we can get.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a really fun chapter to write considering it was my first foray into writing a battle scene. Fun stuff is about to happen guys, so bear with me. The action is coming! I really wasn't sure about mobile suit concepts for the gundam pilots since they don't have their gundams anymore, but what I came up with seemed to be a logical and reasonable adaptations for the boys. There is a little Quatre fangirl moment in there as well as a Top Gun reference. Let me know if you find them. ;) Also, in the notes section at the end of the chapter is an 'out take' that I originally wrote, but then took out because I thought there might be some out-of-character bits. I still really enjoy the scene and it was fun to write, so I went ahead and included it for your guys' enjoyment. As always, I hope you like the new chapter and feel free to make leave comments. 
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> ~Lady J Fox

Immediately after the meeting Wufei had stalked off, leaving Sally to show Quatre and Trowa their new suits on her own. “Doesn’t Wufei want to see his new mobile suit?” Trowa asked as they walked.

“He’s already test flown it,” she replied as they entered one of the small storage units. Five white Taurus mobile suits stood in a row. Each one had slightly different additions to them, though all had a marked thickness that was no doubt attributed to the additional gundanium alloy.

“Keep in mind they won’t be as strong, fast, or powerful as the gundams, but the mechanics did try to accommodate your individual combat styles,” she called after them as the two pilots diverged, exploring the mobile suits at their individual paces.

Quatre noticed that each had a number painted on its chest plate and were lined up in order from 01 to 05. As they walked in front of the suits, Quatre could clearly see a double-barreled beam rifle on the first, two rods as long as the Taurus was itself on the back of the second which Quatre guessed would turn into laser scythes. Trowa’s 03 suit was clearly fitted with as much ballistic power as the mechanics could manage while the fifth had extra-long arms that Quatre could see expanding even farther and large hands that could likely wrap around vital areas of an enemy mobile suit.

The grappling power of that suit would certainly suit Wufei’s style, Quatre thought to himself before bringing his attention to the Taurus labeled 04.

Two formidable looking metal swords hung on its back. They weren’t the short, wide sickles that his gundam Sandrock had wielded. Rather, they were long in the body with a slight curve at the tip.

Scimitars.

Quatre was only vaguely aware of Trowa walking up to his modified Taurus and inspecting it, getting to know its every contour and gun placement.

Quatre just stood and stared at his Taurus for several moments. He absentmindedly slipped his right hand into the pocket of his slacks, as he contemplated this new mobile suit that had been crafted for him. A pang of regret seeped into his chest. As silly as it might sound, he had been quite attached to his gundam. It had served him well through more than a year of intense battles.

“How do you like it?” Sally Po asked from behind.

She had startled him, causing him to glance back quickly in her direction before once again staring at the giant humanoid machine. “It looks good,” he replied. “I have to say, I’m impressed that you were able to modify these as much as you did.”

“The mechanics really wanted to give you guys as much of an edge as they could. Adapting these suits to something familiar to you guys was a priority. Yours has two additional beam sabers tucked away in case you lose your swords.”

Quatre looked at Sally in earnest this time. “Thanks Sally. We really do appreciate it.”

The two regarded each other for a moment. Their eyes met and Sally noticed for the first time that she had to look up. Where Quatre saw a friend who fought for peace and who understood his sentimentality regarding his old gundam, Sally saw a brilliant young man with a bright future ahead of him and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Hey Sally!” Trowa shouted, his voice echoing slightly within the long metal walls of the container. Quatre and Sally both turned to look in his direction. The lanky, dark haired pilot already had the cockpit open and was standing at its threshold. “When can we test these out?”

“You can do it later tonight if you like. You’ll need to get a feel for them before you leave anyway” she called back before meeting Quatre’s gaze again. “What do you say, Quatre? Ready to take it for a spin?”

A prickling sensation shot down his spine and his fingers itched at the thought of controlling a mobile suit again.

Quatre smiled at the unspoken challenge.

“Let’s see what they’ve got.”  
___________________________________________________________________

They had to wait until dark to take the modified Taurus suits through their paces, so the rest of the day consisted of a quiet dinner with Trowa and Wufei, then a nap before they were woken up sometime after 11 o’clock. Well after the sun had passed the horizon.

To Quatre’s great excitement, Duo and Heero had arrived sometime after dinner. As the group made their way to the Taurus hangar, Quatre and Duo talked quietly among themselves some distance in front of the others. Trowa couldn’t help but smile at the pure delight Quatre exhibited at the appearance of Duo. It had been the most animated the younger pilot had been since they had left Europe.

All five gundam pilots and Sally Po stood on the metal catwalk as they watched the mechanical team load the Taurus suits with practice rounds. “They look like they never left a war,” Trowa commented, impressed at the efficiency of the team.

“They are some of the best we have,” replied Sally with pride. “You’ll go out one at a time. This place isn’t large enough for multiple tests at once. Heero, you’ll be up first.”

Heero’s suit was fast and accurate. The suit appeared to respond well to Heero’s commands about as well as his old gundam had. On marks alone, Heero’s test run had completed a perfect score. Trowa really wasn’t surprised. Duo’s flight went just as well. A couple years off hadn’t seemed to diminish his skills in any way.

His own flight went as well as to be expected. His suit was slower than he had anticipated. His own reaction time was faster than the suit’s but still within normal parameters for this type of mobile suit. Trowa didn’t think there was much to help the matter since the only suit with a quicker reaction time would have been his gundam and they certainly had none of those around. But at least neither do they, he thought to himself as he watched Quatre prepare for his flight.

Trowa had to admit that he was even more impressed with what the team had done with the modifications. They still weren’t as fast or as strong as the gundams, but considering what they were going up against, if they performed better tactically, he was cautiously confident that they would have the upper hand despite the numbers against them.  
_____________________________________________________________

Quatre toyed around with the controls on his suit as he was taxied out to the practice field, gauging the weight and push-back of the machinery. He was surprised at how light they were with just enough resistance to register a change from the previous position. The mechanics must have increased its sensitivity to better react to the pilots’ quicker reaction times.

Based off what Sally Po had told him he expected a high level of precision and he got it. Unlike Heero and Duo who had flown full throttle out of the gate like their hair were on fire, Quatre didn’t push his suit’s speed until he was certain that the suit wouldn’t out maneuver his own reactions. He wanted to test its precision before ratcheting up the speed.

As he put the modified Taurus through its paces like the others had, Quatre could feel its reaction time fall below his. It was still fast. Faster than the older models the Eurussians had no doubt, but he knew the suit had more to give than he was currently getting. _The amount of gundainium they’ve added has decreased its speed capabilities_ , he thought to himself as he taxied back to the hangar. _I’m simply too fast for it to keep up_.

Quatre slowly climbed out of his suit’s cockpit. His test flight scores were right up there with the others, but he still wanted more speed. Sandrock had been the most heavily armored of the five gundams, but these modified Taurus suits were designed to be more agile in combat and since that was the case, Quatre wanted to take as much advantage of that as possible. This suit wasn’t Sandrock after all. He wasn’t going to be looking to take a bunch of hits.

He met Sally Po on the catwalk. “Would it be possible to reduce some of the gundanium armor on my Taurus,” he asked her. Sally blinked in surprise.

“Reduce it?” she asked, not fully understanding.

“The suit’s reaction time is slower than my own,” he explained. “This suit is designed for speed. It has more to give if we can reduce some of the additional weight.”

“Are you sure,” she asked him hesitantly. “These suits are already weaker than what you’re used to.”

“It’ll be fine,” Quatre reassured her. “We’re outnumbered yes, but nothing like what we were up against in the gundams. With that in mind, I think speed is going to be the priority.”

Sally gave him a hard look before giving in. “Alright, if you say so. I’ll let them know.”

“Thanks Sally,” he said, looking at his mobile suit. “I appreciate it.”

_______________________________________________________

The next day was an early one. Quatre had passed out as soon as his head hit his pillow sometime after three am and he still felt like he was waking up.

During the night, the Taurus suits had been packed on transport trucks. The pilots were given a quick breakfast before being ushered out of the base. Sally was going to be accompanying them, though her role wasn’t combative.

Quatre was pleased to receive a note indicating that the appropriate modifications to his suit had been completed in time. He was even more pleased that he had the pleasure of riding with Trowa for the duration of the almost 24-hour trip. Trowa insisted upon driving.

Out of habit, Quatre checked his packed mobile suit himself. It was always wise to make sure your suit was securely stowed away for a long haul. As he walked over to the passenger side door after he was finished he noticed Heero and Duo in front of them finishing their own inspections. It appeared he wasn’t the only one.

It took some effort for him to climb into the large semi, even with his added height. Trowa was already buckled in the driver’s seat as Quatre got himself situated. The cab shuddered as the diesel engine roared to life.

“Alright,” came Sally Po’s voice over the CB radio as Trowa eased the truck forward, following Heero and Duo in front. “The most recent surveillance shows that the majority of Eurussia’s forces are still amassing at the southern border of Georgia and along the Chinese-Mongolian border. The plan is to meet up with 300 Preventer troops in Georgia where we will destroy the base there before engaging their forces along that front. We have about 22 hours of travel. Our recon guys will continuously update us on troop movement so we won’t get caught off guard.”

Everyone acknowledged her information as they left the Preventer base behind them.

Roughly twelve hours later found Quatre driving while Trowa slept in the passenger seat. Arms crossed with his chin in his chest, the guy slept like the dead despite the pothole-ridden dirt road they were driving down. Quatre envied him.

He watched through the windshield as Heero and Duo’s rig banked around a sharp curve in the road. Glancing into the rearview mirror, Quatre could see Wufei and Sally’s truck some ways back. They were pushing the limits on how spread out they were. If they didn’t catch up soon he would have to reduce speed in order to close the gap.

Suddenly the world exploded. The air was an eruption of natural debris, metal, and bullets. The truck made a grotesque metallic noise as it twisted to the side, careening off the road. Quatre braced himself as best he could and closed his eyes as the truck rolled over repeatedly, jarring him painfully. He heard a window break and felt the sharp prick and slice as glass showered down around him.

Eventually the truck came to a violent stop. It took a moment for his brain to register the lack of movement. He could hear gunfire from multiple Aries mobile suits over the ringing in his ears. He needed to get loose, but his seat belt wasn’t releasing no matter how much he fought with it. Quatre could feel the blood rushing to his head and fought the dizziness that accompanied it.

Moments later Quatre felt the cold metal give under pressure and heard the belt snap apart, loosening its grip on him. Attempting to twist around in the short distance between his upside down seat and the roof-turned-floor of the cab, Quatre managed to land partially on his feet. The result left him in a partial backbend with one hand on the steering wheel and the other grasping the same seat belt he had just released.

His brain was still fuzzy, reeling from the violent force that had hurtled them off the road. As he moved to his hands and knees he knew he had to get to his mobile suit. He had to fight back against whoever it was who had attacked them. Had to be Eurussian forces even though they shouldn't have run into them for another ten hours or so. He had to aid his friends who he hoped were still alive.

He had to find Trowa.

Quatre hunched over in the cab, trying not to hit his head on the seats they had just previously occupied. In front of him he could see Trowa likewise hunched over, half turned to face him. Other than a few cuts and certainly some bruises, he seemed alright.

 _Well at least that was easy_ , he thought ruefully as he carefully made his way forward. He could see Trowa’s mouth moving, but his ears were still ringing, making it difficult for him to understand.

A look of understanding crossed Trowa's face. He gave Quatre a questioning thumbs up sign. Quatre answered with a thumbs up of his own. With that, Trowa turned back to what he had been doing while Quatre had fought to untangle himself, which apparently involved kicking the door open. With a cold shriek of protest it gave way just enough for them to squeeze through to freedom.

They emerged into bright sunlight and a brisk chilly breeze, which did nothing for his body that was still trying to re-orient itself. He saw Trowa standing in front of him, halfway up the steep embankment of the ditch. With an outstretched hand, Trowa pulled Quatre up next to him. He felt Trowa's free hand reach behind, pressing their heads close enough for Trowa’s mouth to be right next to his ear.

“You alright?” the brunette yelled before pulling back enough to meet Quatre’s eyes with his own, searching for an answer. Quatre nodded. It was still there but the ringing had begun to subside.

Mobile suit fire struck the earth near their position, causing the truck to shudder and groan as the broken up earth around it began to crumble. Carefully, but quickly they made their way to the rear of the truck. Sheer luck seemed to have allowed one of the rear doors to escape most of the damage and it opened without much fuss.

It was tight, but both pilots were able to release the cargo strips holding their mobile suits in place. They had to be careful as they climbed over the upside down machines so as not to cause them to shift dangerously and get themselves crushed.

Quatre’s cockpit opened and it was awkward having to climb in the wrong way. It made him wonder how bats could do it. He could hear the sound of Taurus guns returning fire with the Aries rounds as he climbed in. That meant that at least someone had gotten their suit free and was fighting back.

Quatre looked over at Trowa who had somehow managed to get himself secured into his seat, hanging upside down just like a bat as he readied his mobile suit. He shook his head. No way he could do that. He would just have to wing it. Kneeling on the roof of his cockpit, Quatre managed to power up his suit.

Trowa’s voice cut through the dull ringing in his ears. “Can you hear me Quatre?”

“For the most part,” he replied. “You sound far away, but I hear you. Give me a minute and I’ll get us out of here.”

“Be careful not to get yourself knocked around.”

He knew he wouldn’t be able to pull out his metal scimitars to cut their way out and they would flat out kill themselves if Trowa unleashed bullets in here. Quatre was banking on a more low-tech escape. There wasn’t much room to maneuver, but he was still able to bring his Taurus suit’s leg towards his chest and slam it into the damaged door. The wrecked metal was no match for the brutal force and fell away. The space was small, but one after the other they were able to slide out the back of the truck.

Together he and Trowa flew high into the air. “Looks like they all got out,” Trowa said.

“Good,” Quatre said quietly to no one in particular.

“Sally’s going to have to sit tight though,” Trowa continued, drawing Quatre’s attention to a small figure on the ground putting distance between herself and the jackknifed rig that had housed Wufei’s suit.

Gunfire pulled his attention back to the battle. He could see all three of the other pilots fighting a group of less than 30 outdated Leo suits. The Aries that had attacked them had already been dealt with, as evidenced by their wrecked forms not far away. As Trowa took off for the fighting, Quatre took his taurus even higher to try to get a better view of the surrounding area.

He couldn’t see anything for miles.

Quatre dropped back down to ground level and pressed a button, opening up a space in both shoulder panels, releasing a metal rod from each. With waiting hands, Quatre’s mobile suit grabbed them. Upon activation, red energy formed into two swords.

He came at a Leo with his two beam sabers. Its enemy pilot was too slow to respond and the suit fell to the ground, lifeless. He opened the non-visual voice communication channel between all five Taurus suits. “There looks to be no other mobile suits in this area. Conserve what ammunition you can.”

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Trowa replied with a mild hint of amusement.

Before Quatre could respond, Duo Maxwell’s voice swaggered over the comm system. “Kind of you boys to finally show up!”

Quatre engaged another leo. “We landed upside down...in a ditch,” he responded as the suit made a lucky dodge. He continued to press the enemy. Another trade of blows and it collapsed onto the ground in two different pieces. Turning around quickly, he managed to dodge gunfire from another Leo.

As he rushed to engage this new challenger, he could see both Wufei’s and Heero’s mobile suits making short work of enemies over to his side. The slower, older Leo suits were just not able to react in time to effectively combat the quicker moving suits in close quarters. These types of skirmishes were where both the Taurus and the gundam pilots excelled. It wasn’t long before all enemies on the field were defeated.

After catching their breaths from the fighting, the pilots landed on the other side of a tree line and gathered together in a loose semi-circle. “Everyone all right?” asked Duo.

“That was just a warm-up,” came Wufei’s confident voice.

“Don’t get cocky,” warned Heero. “This was a small unit. If we get into a much bigger battle, we might be hard pressed. Especially if we’re alone. These aren’t our gundams.”

“How’s your hearing Quatre,” Trowa asked.

“The ringing is almost gone,” he replied. “I can hear you pretty well now.”

“That’s no surprise,” Wufei said. “Those Aries fired right on you. I don’t know how they missed. You guys got lucky.”

Suddenly all five mobile suits alerted their pilots to something coming out of the trees. Zooming in their cameras showed Sally Po jogging in their direction.

Wufei guided his mobile suit into a crouching position and opened his hatch. Standing at the entrance, he called down to Sally who had just reached the giant machines. “Glad to see you aren't dead.”

“Back at you,” she replied in good nature. “I managed to contact Lady Une and inform her of what happened.”

“It looks like they fell behind from the main contingent,” Quatre said over his communication system.

“Most likely,” agreed Sally. “Recon teams are reporting of no other activity in this area. The main troops.are still headed to the Middle East.”

“We’re going to have to continue the rest of the way in these suits,” Heero said.

“That’s fine, The supply caravan is only hours behind us. I can catch a ride with them.”

“Alright then,” Heero replied before turning his attention to the four other pilots. “We’ll reach our target in just a few hours rather than the 10 we were expecting.”

“If we don’t run into any more enemy mobile suits,” added Quatre.

“So keep your eyes peeled. It would be pointless if we got ourselves killed this early by being stupid.”

With a final backward glance at Sally Po growing smaller in the distance, the gundam pilots took to the air with Heero in the lead.

______________________________________________________________________

“Sir,” said a lieutenant with a salute and a click of his heels.

Castonev turned around from the table he had been staring at. On it was a large whiteboard map of the Eurasian continent and the old country borders. New boundary lines and symbols indicating military strategies were on it. “Yes?’ he asked brusquely.

“A report sir,” replied the lieutenant, handing him a letter.

Castonev snatched it out of the young soldier’s hand and read it. He frowned. A unit that had fallen behind the rest of his Middle Eastern troops had not been heard from since transmitting a call indicating that they had encountered a group of five modified taurus suits. The captain of their parent unit assumed, appropriately Castonev thought, that they had been wiped out.

Five suits. Five modified suits. Launched on their own and took out a whole unit.

He smiled. Looks like the gundam pilots had joined the fight after all...and they were heading for the Middle East. It didn’t change his plans. They didn’t have their superior gundams this time around and he knew some of them would be a bit rusty after two years and a half years of peace.

 _At least Niki will have some fun_ , he thought before turning back to his map.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scene directly after gundam pilots leave Ukranian base for Middle East and before first battle: Note - Scene was taken out due to feeling of OOC-ness from multiple characters.
> 
> The next day was an early one. Quatre had passed out as soon as his head hit his pillow sometime after three am and he still felt like he was waking up.
> 
> During the night, the Taurus suits had been packed in pairs onto transport trucks. The pilots were given a quick breakfast being ushered out of the base. It was no surprise that Sally Po would be accompanying them in her own Taurus. 
> 
> Quatre was pleased to receive a note indicating that the appropriate modifications to his suit had been completed in time. He was even more pleased that, due to their given numbers, he had the pleasure of riding with Trowa for the duration of the almost 24-hour trip. Trowa insisted upon driving.
> 
> Out of habit, Quatre checked his packed mobile suit himself. It was always wise to make sure your suit was securely stowed away for a long haul. As he walked over to the passenger side door he noticed Heero and Duo in front of them finishing their own inspections. It appeared he wasn’t the only one. 
> 
> It took some effort for him to climb into the large semi, even with his added height. Trowa was already buckled in the driver’s seat as Quatre got himself situated. The cab shuddered as the diesel engine roared to life. 
> 
> “Alright,” came Sally Po’s voice over the CB radio as Trowa eased the truck forward, following Heero and Duo in the one in front. “The most recent surveillance shows that the majority of Eurussua’s forces are still amassing at the southern border of Georgia and along the Chinese-Mongolian border. The plan is to meet up with 300 Preventer troops in Georgia where we will destroy the Eurussian’s base before engaging their forces along that front. We have about 22 hours of travel. Our recon guys will continuously update us on troop movement so we won’t get caught off guard.”
> 
> Trowa leaned forward, picking up the radio. “Sounds good, Water,” he replied, using Sally’s Preventer code name. All Preventers were given code names when they join. Despite not being formal officers within the peacekeeping organization, all the gundam pilots had been given code names as well. 
> 
> The CB clicked on again, this time it was Duo’s voice that emanated from the machine. “Well there you have it guys and gal. That is a big whopping double two hours before we arrive at where we’re goin. Which means, it’s time to have a little fun in this leg of the trip.”
> 
> Trowa cast a sideways glance over to Quatre who was looking right back at him, bright eyes sparkling in humor. Quatre always had enjoyed Duo’s antics. Trowa couldn’t help himself. He smiled too.
> 
> “We’re taking you WAY, way back.” Duo’s voice continued through the speakers. “All the way before the AC calendar to bring you this trivia question: What was the first song ever played in outer space?”
> 
> Quatre quickly plucked the receiver off the dash, pressing the talk button. “Why that would be Happy Birthday, Midnight. Over.” He responded, using the code name given to Duo.
> 
> “And you are correct!” came the reply. “That’s one right answer for Sunshine over there and absolutely nothing for everybody else.” 
> 
> Trowa caught Quatre’s eye again. “He really does sound like a game show host. Maybe he should quit his day job.”
> 
> “This one might hit a little close to home, but in former Europe there were nine countries that end in -land. Name them all?”
> 
> “England” came Wufei’s reluctant voice. 
> 
> “Dragon Age got one!” Duo chimed over the radio.
> 
> “Dragon,” Wufei corrected.
> 
> Trowa picked up the speaker. “Iceland.”
> 
> “Now Mockingbird got on in there. Seven left, ya’ll.”
> 
> “Ireland,” called out Sally.
> 
> “Water’s in on it to. Everyone’s in on this one!” Duo called out.
> 
> Heero’s monotone voice came across the speaker in the background. “Are you going to do this the whole trip?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was really fun and really intimidating since this was a full-scale battle scene. Shout out to my wonderful boyfriend who actually came up with the majority of the new enemy mobile suit's design concept (I asked for his help with it since I was never into the schematics of the mobile suits). It will be discussed in more detail in subsequent chapters. i was going to wait another week before posting this chapter since I also just posted chapter 9, but I just couldn't help myself. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> Lady J Fox

Stormy grey eyes scanned the message file he had just received. It seemed as if the gundam pilots had made an earlier appearance than anticipated. They certainly weren’t trying to hide themselves, were they?

He compared their trajectory with that of his troops and those out of Belbog. Indeed, it looked like they might get to see those kids soon. Within minutes he had sent a report to Belbog’s control station with the news that the gundam pilots were on their way. Without gundams, Nikolaj’s estimation was that they would have to join up with more mobile suits at some point before reaching the southern Eurussian base.

It was a logical place to attack. With a significant number of suits moving from Sugvid towards Chinese territory and Belbog suits encroaching into Iran, the Preventers would undoubtedly chase their middle eastern troops south. It left a juicy opportunity for the rest of Sugvid’s forces to close in on them from the north in a pincer maneuver.

Nikolaj Kozlov’s mouth curled into a lopsided sneer. They wouldn’t know what hit them.

_____________________________________________________________________

The gundam pilots heard the battle before they saw it. The sound of gunfire exchange and beam cannon fire growled in the distance. The sound contrasted against the perfect azure of the cloudless sky. “They engaged sooner than expected,” Wufei observed as the first explosions came into view.

“It’s about the size we expected though,” replied Duo.

Quatre looked out over the battlefield. The few Preventer forces were holding up surprisingly well considering their numbers. “If we split into two groups, we can come at them from the sides. It should relieve some of the pressure on the Preventer troops.”

“Three’s better than one!” Duo said excitedly as he took off for the far side of the battle with Heero. Trowa and Wufei followed Quatre on his flank as they met the Eurussian forces.

The sheer number of them kept him on his toes and trying not to take too much damage. Aware of his mobile suits weaker defense, his strategy was to get in, make a hit, and get out. His superior piloting skills and reaction time made relatively short work of his enemies. Though his scimitars didn’t heat up like Sandrock’s shotels did, they were plenty effective against the outdated Eurussian suits.

Several hours into the battle he was feeling the physical exertion of fighting in a regular mobile suit. His modified Taurus was light and responsive, but Sandrock had been faster and more durable to heavy fire. The demand on his body to sustain faster reactions times than his enemy over extended periods was exhausting.

Quatre cursed under his breath as he got hit harder than he expected from a particularly accurate artillery suit. It caused his Taurus to stumble backward. He had to move quickly in order to avoid being hit by another enemy suit. Wufei had his back though and took both suits out with ease.

“Thanks Wufei.”

The Chinese pilot’s face appeared in a small corner on Quatre’s vid screen. “Be careful,” he warned. “You’re not as tanky as you used to be.”

“I know, I know,” he replied as he pulled up his mobile suit info. His armor was still at 62%. He smiled. So long as he didn’t get reckless, he had plenty of durability left. The blonde looked around. The enemy was beginning to break and he could see their base in the distance.

He watched as Wufei blasted off in another direction as he engaged with several leo suits that looked like they were about to fall apart. Farther in was Trowa, making short work of even more enemy suits, returning artillery fire with even heavier artillery fire.  
Quatre saw an opening farther out and he took it. Sweeping in with his dual scimitars, he sliced through two suits at once. He knocking another mobile suit’s beam cannon away, he engaged another.

A panicked voice crackled into his cockpit from the general channel. “Enemies from behind! Enemies from behind!”

Quatre’s eyes widened. “What?!” He brought up a visual feed of the overall battle. His heart sank. There were about a hundred that had suddenly engaged Preventer forces directly behind them. _Why didn’t we know about these guys_ , he asked himself in surprise.

“Quatre?” came Trowa’s cool headed voice came over his personal communications line. Quatre’s mouth set in a firm line as he took a deep breath. No time for surprise.

“I see them,” he replied just as calmly. He looked at their formation, eyes darting around critically, looking for a weak spot. They were tightly compacted in a long column. “They’re going to try to splinter us.”

He had to admit this worried him. They looked much more trained and disciplined than the first troops they had almost beaten. The new mobile suits still looked like salvage jobs, but even still, with his own stamina waning and likely the others’ were too, there was a chance they would lose this fight.

“We’ll attack the column together,” he told the others. “If we can break them…” he started to say when another voice came over the radio even more panicked than the previous one. “Enemies three o’clock! They’re in the air!”

Quatre heard Duo let loose a rather choice set of words. “Are you serious?!”

A visual popped up on his screen. About a hundred Aries suits were flying at them from his side. They would be upon him within moments. “I’ve got thirty seconds to engagement,” he announced much more calmly than he felt. He was acutely aware of how vulnerable he was, being the only modified Taurus on this flank. _They surrounded us and we didn’t even notice_.

“More Aries! Nine o’clock!” called another voice.

Quatre’s heart dropped despite having expected the call. _Shit_. They were in a bad spot now. “Alright,” he said over their channel. “I’ve got these guys over here. Trowa can take the forces straight ahead. Duo take those on the nine. Wufei can take the ones in the back and Heero can go wherever needs him most. Make everything count.”

Quatre pulled down his helmet from where it was attached above him. He hadn’t needed it yet, but if he was going to get into an aerial fight, he was going to need the oxygen support.

It was rough, but his new enemy’s discipline allowed him to predict their moves better. They attacked in small groups rather than as individuals, even in the air. They weren’t automated Mobile Dolls, thank God, but they were anticipatable and not too many seemed willing to get into a dogfight.

Capitalizing on his modified Taurus’ increased mobility to get in, attack, and get out before he could take damage, Quatre had made significant headway within his quadrant. Despite losing his scimitars and resorting to his dual beam sabers he felt fairly confident that they would soon drive the Eurussian forces back.

Quatre hovered above the worst of the fighting as he analyzed the whole battlefield. The Preventer forces were doing well, being careful and smart. They hadn’t lost many suits yet and it looked like Sally Po’s estimation on the Eurussian suits’ structural weaknesses were at least partially acurate. He noted how far away he had gotten from the other gundam pilots. He had been lucky to have stayed out of any real trouble.

Above him a group of six Aries suits appeared not to have noticed him, intent on an isolated Preventer suit on the ground. _I’ll just take care of these guys and head back to the others_ , he told himself. With a quick altitude adjustment, Quatre throttled after them.

He hadn’t been prepared for what happened next.

A loud explosion roared around him and hurtled his suit towards the ground. Red lights pulsed within his cockpit as the altitude warning system shrilled. His modified taurus shuddered violently from the combined pressure of what had to have been a missile impact and strong G-forces.

Somewhere in the distance he heard Duo’s voice call out his name over the communication system.

________________________________________________________________

Even with the Eurussian reinforcements, the Preventer forces were still making steady progress towards winning the battle. Trowa was almost done with his quadrant when he heard a surprised Duo scream Quatre’s name over the communications channel.

Immediately, Trowa snapped his attention to his friend’s area. Most of the mobile suits had been taken care of. The regular Preventer suits seemed to have everything under control, but farther out from the rest of the fighting he could see Quatre’s taurus falling rapidly from the sky. Smoke billowed from the shoulder on one side, obviously from a missile strike.

Even with a fall like that, Trowa knew that Quatre would most likely survive a crash landing, but it forced him way outside of the normal battlefield parameters and getting to him would take time.

“I’ve got this covered,” Heero, who had been fighting a rather stubborn insurgency beside him said. “Go make sure Quatre’s okay.”

A wave of relief swept over him. The guy always seemed to know what he was thinking. “Thanks Heero,” he replied before heading out in Quatre’s direction.

________________________________________________________________

Quatre felt the suit rolling over itself sideways as it pelted toward the earth. He tried desperately to re-engage his thrusters, but the system wouldn’t respond. Despite the oxygen assist from the mask within his helmet, he could feel himself start to get dizzy from his uncontrolled roll.

The alarm system blared around him, counting down the seconds until impact. 10 - 9 - In a last ditch attempt to regain control, Quatre completely shut down the whole suit.

The cockpit went black.

Quatre closed his eyes and counted the seconds in his head as he waited for the system to reboot. 7 - 6 - 5-. The lights came back on, along with the clamoring alarm and red flashing lights.

4 - 3 -. Bracing for impact and with a silent prayer, he pushed the thrusters to their max.

2 - 1. Gloriously, they roared to life.

The Taurus landed hard against the earth, jolting Quatre violently in his seat in spite of his harness. With the help of the re-engaged thrusters, the blonde pilot had at least managed to land right side up in a crouching position. The alarm system stopped its annoying racket and checked his armor stats. 54% _Damn_.

Quatre quickly looked about for enemy mobile suits. Seeing nothing, he was just about to blast off to rejoin the main troops when he was once again thrown backwards.

_What the hell?!_

He heard a sickening crunch and metallic tearing above his cockpit. With an ear piercing crackle of white noise, Quatre’s screens went black. He instantly knew that the head of his Taurus had just been destroyed along with his primary communication and visual systems that were housed there.

The red alarms flashed inside the cockpit again. 46 %. _Has to be a new mobile suit_ , he realized.

With a jolt, he felt the Taurus get pulled forward and raised above the ground. Now dangling without any purchase, he attempted to get free by pushing his thrusters forward. He hoped it would cause the the invisible suit to tip backward enough to let him go. He felt the suit in front of him begin to give under the pressure, but it didn’t last. With another jolt followed by a sickening tear he felt the propulsion pack get ripped off the back of his suit.

A window popped up in front of him warning him of the obvious fact that he was now without any communication or propulsion systems. He was down to 42% “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he yelled in anger and more than a little bit of fear. Quatre knew he was in a soon-to-be deadly situation.

He had suddenly found himself unable to run or call for help and he was in the clutches of an enemy he couldn’t see.

________________________________________________________________

Trowa kept an eye on Quatre the best he could as he gradually fought his way towards the blonde’s landing zone. Trowa thought it had been gutsy of him to completely shut down his suit and hope that a quick restart would give him enough power to reduce the impact of hitting the ground. He’d gotten lucky there.

He had landed right side up and in a seemingly empty area. A pair of determined Eurussian suits required his attention and Trowa, once done with them, expected to see Quatre flying toward him to rejoin the battle.

What he saw was completely different.

His heart stumbled as he witnessed Quatre’s Taurus get thrown backwards seemingly by nothing at all. The mobile suit’s head had shattered and collapsed in on itself. It had appeared to be slammed by something with enough power to crush it, destroying all communication and visual support.

_What the hell_ , Trowa thought in astonishment as he watched his friend’s suit get picked up off the ground. Quatre appeared to try to thrust against whatever force held him. It almost seemed like the gamble would work, until Trowa saw his propulsion pack get pulled off and tossed to the side. The sheer amount of power necessary for that was ridiculous!

His friend was in serious trouble.

“Heero, do you see what’s got Quatre?” he asked over the comm channel as he pushed his suit’s speed to the limit. He needed to get over there as soon as possible.

“Look’s like a cloaked mobile suit,” offered the other pilot clinically.

“Can you get a bead on it, Duo?” Trowa asked.

Long seconds passed before Duo responded. “It doesn’t look like the same system Deathscythe used. I can’t get through to see it either.”

Trowa cursed silently as he made a push through another group of enemy mobile suits.

________________________________________________________________

He brought what he thought would be both beam sabers downward in the hopes of hitting whatever had him only to realize that one saber was gone, likely lost during his free fall. He connected with something straight ahead, though he couldn’t see what that something was. If he had to guess, Quatre would have assumed it would be the general body of the invisible suit.

_At least I can hit it_ , he thought grimly before another sickening sound of metal being forcefully torn away. A moment later the Taurus felt lighter on his right side and off balance. The warning window indicated what he already feared, that he had just lost his only weapon arm. 37%.

Quatre’s body began to tremble as his mind raced to find an escape. If he could just get out of this monster’s grip he might be able to make a run for it, though without his propulsion pack the odds of actually getting away were pretty slim. _I might have to ditch_ , he thought grudgingly. The idea of leaving his mobile suit in the hands of the enemy didn’t sit well with him, but there wasn’t a self detonation device in this suit. That left him with very limited options.

With a sickening lurch, he felt his suit get thrown in an arc before landing hard against the ground. An involuntary cry escaped him as he got thrown painfully to the side. Parts of the inner console jabbed him in the side as he hung sideways and the seat straps bit into his shoulders.

Another wrenching shriek. Another alarm sounded. His suit lost a leg. _This guy’s a bloody sadist_ , he thought, fear coursing through him.

The mysterious suit rolled the modified Taurus onto its back and Quatre was thankful for the reprieve to his undoubtedly bruised sides. He rested his head against the back of his seat, eyes closed, as his heart pounded in his chest and his breathing came out labored while he waited for his enemy’s next move.

He felt the invisible suit retract whatever implement had destroyed the Taurus’ head. A moment later he felt it hit and heard something attach to the cockpit area, causing everything around him to shudder and groan. _So much for ditching now_.

He took a deep breath, staring straight ahead into the blank screens in front of him and waited for what was coming.

Violently and more quickly than he imagined, something rammed into the very center of his cockpit like a pile driver. Reflexively, Quatre braced and closed his eyes. He heard the screens shatter and felt the titanium alloy of the Taurus give under the impact. Tentatively, he opened his eyes.

What he saw shocked him. Though the cockpit was still technically intact, the front had been caved in to the point where he could almost rest his head against the broken computer screens in front of him. The front had been completely malformed.

Quatre’s eyes widened at the damage and a quiet curse escaped his lips. One more hit like that and he would be crushed for sure.

What came next was not another direct hit to the already severely impacted cockpit front. It felt like roundhouse punches to the left side of his suit. With every hit, the metal gave and caved in further. The weakened metal was slowly being pushed into its pilot. His place within the suit was becoming increasingly cramped.

It wasn’t an immediate end, but Quatre knew that if that mysterious suit kept it up it would either break through the Taurus’ armor and the enemy would be able to pull him out or the ever encroaching metal would crush or cut him to death. But he had no power and no communications. All he could do was breathe and pray.

________________________________________________________________

He watched as Quatre attempted to fight back with his remaining beam saber. Hope bubbled inside him when he saw the weapon connect with whatever invisible force had him. That hope was short lived as a few short moments later, the injured Taurus’ arm and accompanying beam saber were ripped from its torso and flug to the side.

_Good God, what the hell is that thing?_ Trowa thought as fear well up inside him. He was still too far out to do much more than watch whatever demon of a pilot it was throw Quatre sideways and tear a leg off. His face was set determinedly as he tried to rush to Quatre’s aide.

He still had distance to close between them, but Trowa finally broke free of the Eurussian forces. Now he had nothing but open space between him and whatever was slowly ripping Quatre’s suit apart.

It happened almost quicker than he could process. A shimmer, like heat in the desert, and then suddenly a huge black mobile suit was leering above the mangled Taurus. The right arm appeared to have a long shield, the tip of which currently held Quatre to the ground.

The black monstrosity retracted its shield arm and held it above the Taurus for a long moment before slamming into the torso. Trowa’s heart jumped in his seat at the sound it made when a black hydraulic ram underneath the shield drove itself into the cockpit for a direct hit. Chunks of metal and shards of glass erupted from around the impact zone, leaving a noticeable crater.

“He’s going to kill him,” he heard Duo yell in his ear. He was only vaguely aware of Wufei’s presence beside him as they rushed to save their friend. Trowa cursed his current lack of artillery. If he’d had some bullets left he could at least attempt to drive the damned suit away. As it was, he and Wufei would have to engage the bastard in melee combat.

His eyes were zeroed in on that hydraulic ram as the black suit appeared to crank the pulverizer backward. _Readying another hit_ , he realized. _That first one almost did the trick. Quatre likely won’t live through another._

Apparently something had gone wrong however and Trowa thanked his lucky stars as the black suit abandoned directly attacking the front of the cockpit and instead began punching the sides of the Taurus with a scorpion like left hand. With the ability to extend and retract, the hand pounded the left side of the suit with abandon.

As they approached, the enemy suit stopped its attack and looked at them. The pilot seemed to almost consider whether or not to engage with the two incoming suits. To Trowa’s slight disappointment, the pilot decided against that course of action and took off towards the east, abandoning its helpless victim.


	11. Chapter 11

Angry gunfire could be heard from the battle in the distance, though the fighting over this area was mostly over. What remained was the final vestiges of a coordinated retreat by the Eurussian forces. Preventer mobile suits were predominantly cleaning up the stragglers and solidifying their advancement by retaking territory.

It was, by and large, a calculated victory.

The victory was not on the mind of the four Gundam pilots, however. With the familiar ease of working together, they surrounded Quatre’s downed and unresponsive mobile suit. Heero, Duo, and Wufei positioned themselves as a barrier against potential enemy fire. Weapons raised, their eyes scanned the battlefield for potential threats while their thoughts raced with uncertainty regarding Quatre's condition.

Trowa, though outwardly calm, was trembling in anger and fear as he guided his own modified Taurus suit behind Quatre’s. As carefully as possible, he began dragging his friend’s mobile suit away from the battlefield.The Mobile Mechanical Engineering Unit was on its way, but the unit was slower to arrive than Trowa would have liked.

Originally designed to act as mobile repair waypoints for Mars Project machinery, these units had been quickly modified to follow at the rear of mobile suit units during battles with Eurussia in order to provide essential ammunition reloads and quick repairs. The unit hosted two mobile piers, each supporting up to six mobile suit docking bays simultaneously. Each docking bay had a dedicated mechanical repair team.

They also housed a front line medical staff that served as a triage station for the critically wounded and that was where he was taking Quatre. It seemed almost impossible for anyone to have come out of the scarred mobile suit without injuries.

Trowa tried not to look at the damaged mess that was the modified Taurus. He feared that he had just witnessed his dear friend get crushed to death.

The remaining leg of Quatre’s Taurus dragged grotesquely behind Trowa, attached only by a few stubborn wires. Slabs of metal dejectedly fell off torn sections of the suit as Trowa slowly drug it towards the MMEU. The weight of the Taurus left deep gouges in the ground and a trail of burned metal behind them as the other three pilots continued to protectively bring up the rear.

None of the four said a word. No doubt knowing all too well that nothing any of them could say would relieve their anxiety over Quatre’s unknown condition. Multiple attempts at establishing communication with him had been unsuccessful, though, considering the state of his mobile suit, the resulting silence was not unexpected.

Still, worst case scenarios continued to play themselves out in Trowa’s mind as he carefully, albeit awkwardly, pulled the blonde’s suit to safety. What would he tell Rashid? If his worst fear came true, how could he tell Quatre’s most loyal guardian that he had let him get killed?

 _There was no way that Quatre could be taken out by a single mobile suit_ , he told himself. He tried to ignore the little voice in his head that reminded him that it hadn’t just been a single suit. Quatre had been blindsided with a missile from seemingly nowhere. That missile had given the Eurussian suit just enough of an advantage to overpower the isolated Taurus.

 _We should never have let ourselves get so spread out. Not without Gundams_ , he berated himself as he balled a fist and slammed it into the side panel of his mobile suit. _Never should have let it happen._

Trowa was startled from his thoughts by the alert of an incoming communications signal. “MME Pier 1 to Paradise, acknowledge, over.” Trowa’s heart lifted slightly as the friendly voice hailed their unit of five over the speakers. He could see the large portable docking system coming into view and heading right in their direction.

Heero was the one to reply with a click of a button.

“This is Star to MME Pier 1, acknowledged, over”

“You look like you could use some help,” came the surprisingly chipper voice. It grated on Trowa’s fraying nerves.

“Sunshine is badly damaged and without power. We expect he will need a medical team on standby.”

“Copy that Star. The rest of you guys good?”

“We’re fine. Just out of ammunition,” replied Heero.

There was a pause on the other end. Several heartbeats passed without a response. “Alright then. Docking bays 4, 5, and 6 are open and prepped for you. We’ll come alongside and bring him in. The rest of you will have to rendezvous with Pier 2 which should be coming up on our 9 here shortly. We’ll be meeting up with the Axiom in about an hour.”

“Roger, copy that.” came Heero’s monotone reply. He clicked off the MME’s frequency and switched to the one specifically given to their unit. “When they come up alongside, Trowa and Duo, you both will help get Quatre in. Wufei and I will go to Pier 2.”

“Roger that” came the voices of both Duo and Wufei.

“I expect Lady Une will want to speak with us when we rendezvous with Axiom,” added Wufei, referring to the command ship for the Preventer forces.

The four pilots fell into silence as they trudged along.

It took another twenty minutes before Pier 1 had come alongside. It took another several for the massive carrier to come to a stop, which was required before the mobile suits could be brought into the docking bays. Three cavernous garage doors opened, allowing enough room for Trowa and Duo to bring their modified Taurus suites on either side of Quatre’s and pull it inside.

The ground crew of Pier 1 signaled both Trowa and Duo to step away and dock their own mobile suits. As they did so all three doors slowly descended back down, closing them off from Heero and Wufei, and throwing the area into the shade.

Bright incandescent lights switched on, bathing the large hangar in unnaturally bright light. Trowa’s concentration was split between docking his suit and watching the ground crew’s work on Quatre. They were quick, he’d give them that.

Already they had attached heavy duty cords braced at the ceiling to Quatre’s mobile suit and had started pulling the suit to a standing position, despite the suit’s lack of ability to do so on its own. What appeared to be another support structure was pulling up behind the suit and once the cords had done their job of holding Quatre’s suit upright, the support structure came in from behind, attaching itself like an extra spine.

A loud shrill whistle signaled the successful docking of Trowa’s mobile suit. He snapped the release from his seatbelt and practically punched the control that opened the cockpit. Flinging himself out of his mobile suit, he ran down the length of the scaffolding that connected his suit to the rest of the platform. He glanced to his right, trying to get a glimpse of what the crew was doing to get Quatre out. He could already see three guys putting blow torches to the titanium alloy, sending sparks flying.

____________________________________________________________________

Quatre didn’t know what had happened, where he was, or who was on the other side of the door, but he could hear the rushing sound of blow torches. No doubt whoever it was was having a difficult time forcing the bashed-in cockpit open.

Thinking about it, that battle was probably the closest he had ever come to truly being killed in one-on-one combat. Once the last of his systems had shattered and that monstrosity had begun punching, Quatre had honestly believed he was going to die. He had been relieved when the final crushing blow hadn’t arrived.

As it was, the already small cockpit had been damaged so much that Quatre barely had any room to shift. The door was bent in and crushed so much that he could rest his head on the metal if he leaned forward enough. The area around his legs had been beaten inward to the point that he couldn’t stretch his legs out like usual. He could feel them cramping. Even the sides had taken a few punches, causing some of the sharp metal and seat to jut inward.

 

Despite his seatbelt, Quatre had been tossed against the twisted metal more than once and the pressure on his ribcage was concerning. Quatre didn’t think the potentially dangerous debris had punctured anything, but it had knocked him around pretty badly in spite of his seat belt. He could feel the muscles in his back and side begin to bruise and become more painful.

Being locked in such an uncomfortable position was not going to help either. Regardless of who was on the other side of the door, he hoped they would get him out soon.

Right at that moment, as if on cue, the sound of blow torches had stopped and was replaced by metal tapping the distinctive da-dada-duh-duh pattern. Quatre took a deep breath to steady himself before balling up a fist and responding with a duh-duh. By his estimation, this was going to turn out fairly well or potentially very, very badly.

A raucous sound erupted from the other side of the door and excited tapping again resonated from the cold metal. It was old school morse code. Whoever it was wanted to know if he was okay. He tapped back an affirmative response. Another set of tapping spelled out just one word: friends.

Quatre’s heart lifted slightly, though he refused to let himself completely believe the mysterious tapper on the other side. The reality could be that the enemy had taken him and was hoping to catch him with his guard down. Not that he would have any real chances against a base full of Eurussian forces.

The sound of torches started up again and not long after did small slivers of light begin to pierce the blackness that was his cockpit. A couple of crowbars forced their way inside, hooking onto the edge of the mangled door. They obviously weren’t able to get the thing to open downward as the door was designed to do so they had opted to simply pry it open from the side.

The door shrieked in protest as more rescuers brought in more crowbars and pulled. Gloriously, the metal trapping his legs released as the door began giving way. With quite a bit of shouting and strained grunting, the inside of the cockpit was exposed just enough for Quatre to make an escape attempt.

He unsnapped his seatbelt and abandoning the helmet, he quickly but gingerly squeezed through. Blinking repeatedly as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the docking bay, Quatre looked at the men who had freed him from his metal prison. He instantly recognized the Preventer insignia on their jumpsuits.

Friends indeed.

Some of the men went back to work while a few others huddled around Quatre, asking him if he was alright and clapping him on the shoulders. His weak knees almost buckled under the weight.

______________________________________________________________________

The world around him fell away as he saw Quatre barely squeeze himself out of the opening the mechanics had created. He raced down the length of the main platform as he watched the rescuers clapping him on the back and shoulders, obviously glad that he had survived such a brutal attack. And Quatre… As good-natured as ever was smiling as he talked with them, thanking them no doubt.

Trowa’s heart leaped at the sight of the bright face, seemingly no worse for wear considering the damage his suit had taken. He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude as he grabbed the railing, using it to turn down Quatre’s docking scaffold while retaining his running speed.

“Quatre!”

______________________________________________________________________

The mechanics dispersed, going back to their task of repairing, or at least salvaging, what they could of the damaged mobile suit and for a moment Quatre watched as they went. Grateful that allies had picked him up instead of the enemy. It seemed as if he had escaped death twice today.

“Quatre!”

He startled at the sound of his name being shouted so very loudly and workers across several docking bays paused in their tasks to see what the commotion was about. Quatre turned towards the sound and saw Trowa running towards him, relief and worry mixed in his face. Relief at seeing his friend was quickly replaced with confusion as to Trowa’s uncharacteristically open display of emotion. _Maybe spending so much time with Cathy really did have an effect on him_ , Quatre thought absently. He wasn’t sure why Trowa was running.

“Trowa, I’m fi-” Quatre’s words were swallowed by Trowa’s mouth as the taller pilot slammed into him, wrapped his arms around, him and pulled him in close. If not for Trowa’s athleticism, they very well might have fallen over.

Quatre could feel his face flush as shock turned into acute sensory awareness. Suddenly the blonde was highly conscious of Trowa’s hips against his, the proximity of his hands pinned at his sides and so very close to a certain piece of the other’s anatomy, and how he could feel both of their hearts racing as their chests pressed against each other.

A brief moment in time that felt like an eternity was broken as Trowa unwrapped his arms from around Quatre and took a step back. Placing one hand on his friend’s shoulder and the other on the back of his head, Trowa leaned in towards Quatre and fixed his eyes on his own in an unspoken question.

“I’m fine” Quatre managed to say lamely, meeting Trowa’s critical eyes with his own despite the heat he felt spreading across even more of his face.

A deep voice cleared its throat behind them and Quatre became suddenly aware of a round of clapping and whistling being directed at them. Trowa dropped his hands to his sides, returning to the stiff posture of a soldier as he half-turned to face the voice. Quatre regretted the distance it put between them.

______________________________________________________

A tall, burly man with a fastidious handlebar mustache in a crisp gray uniform stood with his hands behind his back.Trowa noticed the insignia on his collar indicated the position of the ship captain. He eyed Quatre up and down with an iron gaze, seemingly ignoring Trowa for the moment.

“Glad you made it back in one piece Gundam pilot,” he said, his voice a deep baritone, reminding him of a less warm version of Rashid. “I am Captain Karga. I am in charge of this vessel. Get yourself to the med bay. Ensign Tuvey will escort you. Once they clear you and we have docked with the Axiom, you will report to Lady Une directly.” He turned suddenly and fitted Trowa with an equally sharp expression. “You and Duo Maxwell are to follow Ensign Flannery who will take you to a debriefing room.”

Without another word to either of them, the captain turned on his heels and exited the hangar. Duo Maxwell, long braid wagging behind him, approached the other pilots with a mischievous grin. By the look on his face, Trowa figured that the odds of at least one of those whistles coming from him were high.

“At least you aren’t dead little buddy,” Duo said to Quatre as he dropped an arm across the blonde pilot’s shoulders and ruffled his hair. Trowa knew that the light tone in his voice belied the great amount of relief the long-haired pilot felt at seeing Quatre seemingly unharmed.

It was then that a pair of officers in gray briskly stepped up to the three pilots before halting in salute, despite the Gundam pilots’ lack of any official military rank. “Ensigns Tuvey and Flannery here to escort you sirs,” Tuvey, the older of the two, said. Blonde hair, green eyes, and with a French accent he appeared to be in his early twenties. To Trowa, he seemed to be an older, slightly different version of Quatre.

With bright eyes and welcoming smiles, the two ensigns happily led the group through the main hangar tunnel that attached to the Pier concourse. From there they branched off. Flannery, doing a wonderful job of acting as a tour guide took Duo and Trowa to the right while Tuvey directed Quatre to the left.

Trowa couldn’t help but throw a glance over his shoulder as they split. The two blondes were talking quietly amongst each other as they turned a corner and disappeared from view.

____________________________________________________________________

Tuvey was pleasant company as the older blonde led him past a maze of corridors. Most of the hallways they passed, Tuvey explained, were facility rooms or bedrooms. The crew’s sleeping areas were grouped by division rather than rank so that even if Pier 1 was attacked, there was a chance that not all of the crew or officers would be wiped out at once.

“Everyone was really worried when the call came in that they were bringing you in in the state that you were,” Tuvey said, glancing over at Quatre. “There was supposed to be a field medical team waiting for you, but apparently they got stuck in assisting with an emergency surgery that came in just before you arrived.”

“It’s alright,” replied Quatre said as Tuvey stopped at a door, stepped to the side, and motioned for him to enter.

“This is the med bay. Once you’re good to go they will send for me and I will escort you to your next destination.” Tuvey walked off briskly as Quatre stepped forward, the motion-sensor door sliding open.

Quatre paused several paces into the room. It was apparent by the cots, curtains, and information station that he had stepped into a triage center. The place was sterile white and smelled the way all hospitals do. Of sickness and rubbing alcohol.

A dark haired officer glanced up from her paperwork, noticing Quatre in his combat uniform immediately. Grabbing some paperwork and coming around the desk she walked up to Quatre and held out her hand with a smile. “Lieutenant LaRange. You must be the Gundam pilot. Good to see you walking.”

Quatre couldn’t help but smile back as he shook her hand. “Good to be able to walk,” he replied.

LaRange chuckled. “I bet it is. We were expecting you to be in much worse shape, but glad you aren’t,” she said as she led him over to an empty hospital bed, motioning for him to sit. “The Flight Surgeon still wants you to get checked out. He’s in surgery, but Captain Carter will be in to see you in a few minutes. Until then, I’m going to start the basics, okay.”

Quatre hated being in a medical bed. He had been in too many of them in too short a time period, having to recover from two very serious combat injuries during the War of the Colonies within several months of each other. In spite of himself, he winced as he lifted himself up onto the medical bed. Now that the effects of the adrenaline in his system had dissipated, his bruised muscles protested.

“I saw that,” LaRange said with concern as she took his blood pressure. “Where does it hurt?”

Quatre opened his mouth to answer when a ringing erupted seemingly from everywhere. The whole ship started to shudder and a loud rumbling filled the room. “What is that?” he asked in alarm, looking at LaRange who, oddly enough, was smiling as she braced against the wall.

“We just joined up with the Axiom. Now, where does it hurt?”

____________________________________________________________

It was several hours after Trowa and Duo had pulled Quatre’s damaged mobile suit into Mobile Medical Engineering Unit Pier 1’s hangar and the two had been released from their combat debriefing. The meeting had included Lady Une, Captain Carlisle of the Axiom, Heero, and Wufei via vid screen, Captain Karga of Pier 1, and several other Preventer officers.

Of special importance had been the Erussian suit that had made such terrifying work of Quatre’s modified Taurus. The suit seemed to be a hybrid of sorts that hadn’t been seen before. This presented the possibility that the Eurussians may also have to ability to create their own mobile suits. This fear along with battle analytics had dominated the discussion.

Once relieved from the meeting the pair had been given a tour of Pier 1 before being led through a docking tunnel which connected the resource ship with the Axiom, which had attached itself to both MMEUs just prior to the debrief. Duo, seemingly much less worried about Quatre’s health status than Trowa, had abandoned the sulky pilot in search for food and hopefully the other Gundam pilots in Axiom’s mess hall.

Trowa however, was in no mood to eat. Instead, he turned around and walked back the way they had come. Sure enough, he saw the tall, blonde frame of Ensign Tuvey, who had escorted them into the Axiom.

“Ensign!” he called.

The young officer halted immediately, turning on his heel sharply to face Trowa. “Sir,” he responded questioningly.

“Was Quatre brought aboard the Axiom?”

“Of course sir. Just a little bit ago. My instructions were to show him to his quarters. His room number is 387, right next to you and the other Gundam pilots.” Tuvey responded matter-of-factly.

In an uncharacteristic show of excitement, Trowa clapped the officer on the shoulder in thanks and took off again. He knew how to get there from here.

Ensign Tuvey was left alone in the hallway, staring after the tall pilot.

_____________________________________________________________

A knock at the door drew Quatre’s attention. _Who would that be_ , he wondered as he deposited his used bath towel into the bathroom hamper. He walked into the center of his small bedroom which housed nothing more than a bed, nightstand, dresser, desk, and a bathroom before giving the knocker permission to enter.

It was Trowa.

Quatre was taken aback by the somewhat unexpected visit. He hadn’t expected anyone to check in on him until later. Considering, or in spite of, what had happened earlier he couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward. “Hey,” he said as his throat constricted and his stomach turned into knots. “Did you need something?”

A flash of emotion crossed Trowa’s face briefly, but the blood rushing in his ears caused Quatre to render it indecipherable. “I came to see how you were doing,” replied the taller pilot.

 _You’re an idiot_ , he told himself. _Of course, he would_.

Quatre gave his friend a small smile. “I’m fine. Really. The doctor gave me a clean bill of health. A little achy from being banged up, but other than that…” he reassured him. _I guess it would make sense that he would be worried, considering…_ , he thought. _At least we aren’t avoiding each other_.

Trowa walked forward, his slow and deliberate footsteps caused Quatre’s nerves to stand on end. Words stuck in his throat as the person he knew as a friend and comrade in arms stood toe to toe with him. They were so close to each other that the fabric of their shirts nearly touched. The angle forced the shorter blonde to look up in order to match the other’s gaze.

The sound of a ferry boat’s horn rang inside his head.

______________________________________________________________

Trowa felt his feet move of their own accord. He hadn’t had a plan when he made the decision to check in Quatre. He simply could not get the image of his mangled mobile suit, dark without power, being towed into port out of his head. He was thankful for the top notch mechanical crew that had been waiting to spring into action to free the incapacitated pilot.

And the medical staff as well for making sure that Quatre hadn’t received any serious injuries during the ordeal, even if they hadn’t been on standby in the hangar.

Trowa had feared the worst right then and the lead weight in his stomach still hadn’t fully receded just yet. The sight of the blonde in front of him helped ease Trowa’s worry.

“I just wanted to make sure. You really took a beating today. That mobile suit is going to be out for a while. You’re going to need a new one.” Towa told Quatre as he stared down into those sparkling blue eyes.

A voice in the back of his head told him that it really wasn’t necessary for them to be so close to each other, yet he felt it was all the same. Trowa noticed a blush creep into Quatre’s cheeks and he thought about how it contrasted beautifully against the color in his eyes.

____________________________________________________________________

Quatre felt the heat rush over his face as Trowa started talking. His concern for his welfare was touching and exciting at the same time. Of course teammates would worry about each other, but this felt deeper than that. He had been worried that Trowa’s surprising reaction to his lack of bodily injury had been a fluke or some weird coping mechanism. However, their current proximity to each other gave him hope that his feelings for Towa were in fact reciprocated.

Trowa’s green eyes were alive with concern, though whatever he was saying was lost to him as his voice faded from hearing. For a moment the world seemed to stop, go completely silent. Quatre couldn’t help it as his eyes drifted down to Towa’s lips.

He could have died earlier today. Any of them could die tomorrow.

_Oh, what the hell._

Closing his eyes and with more force than he intended Quatre rose onto the balls of his feet and planted his own lips firmly on Trowa’s. The movement shocked him enough for Trowa to pull back slightly. The recoil didn’t last long however and a moment later an arm wrapped around Quatre’s waist, pulling him closer while the other caressed his cheek. The taller pilot pulled him in tight against him, deepening the kiss.

Quatre’s breath hitched at Trowa’s reaction. His whole body tingled and a chill shivered down his spine. Almost automatically, Quatre’s mouth opened in response. Trowa took immediate advantage, plunging his tongue against Quatre’s.

More than willing to surrender, Quatre allowed the taller pilot to guide him to the bed as they explored each other’s mouths. Trowa ever so gently eased Quatre down onto the bed, never once letting go of his mouth. A hand traveled teasingly long Quatre’s side, sending another shiver of excitement down his spine and he moaned against Trowa’s lips. He could feel Trowa smile as they continued to kiss, not yet willing to abandon the deliciousness he found there.

Trowa’s hand continued further down, over the blonde’s slender hip and along the length of his thigh. Reflexively, Quatre arched his back, pressing his hips against Trowa’s. He broke their kiss, tipping his head back and pulling desperately needed air into his lungs. Who knew that kissing would literally take one’s breath away?

____________________________________________________________________

Thoroughly enjoying his dear friend’s reactions so far, Trowa took advantage of his exposed neck to press a trail of kisses there. A sharp intake of breath from the blonde caused pin pricks to explode all over his body. Continuing to slide his hand lower, finding the hook of Quatre’s knee, he gently lifted and pushed until they were both laying completely on the bed.

Trowa repositioned himself now that they weren’t half off the bed and certainly much more comfortable. Leaning on his side, his left arm propping himself up slightly so as all his weight wasn’t on the smaller pilot, Trowa brought his right leg in between Quatre’s, resting his knee against the bed, just under Quatre’s groin. This elicited another sharp inhale from the blonde, followed by a moan. Trowa chuckled deeply as he nuzzled the dip in skin at the base of Quatre’s neck and slowly slid his hand back up his thigh.

_____________________________________________________________

Quatre squirmed underneath Trowa. He couldn’t help it. Trowa’s warm breath on his skin, his hand tantalizingly moving across his thigh, and oh God his knee pressing against such a sensitive area. It was hard to catch a breath when he was doing things like that. Quatre’s hands clenched fistfuls of bed sheets and threw his head backward, moaning his Trowa nipped and sucked at the base of his neck.

He shuddered as Trowa’s hand traveled over his hips, running dangerously close to his now noticeably bulging pants, and underneath the t-shirt, he was wearing. Gently, Trowa skimmed his hand over Quatre’s stomach. Not as hard and defined like that of hard-core fitness jocks, but fit enough to put plenty of guys to shame. Quatre, though never a health nut, had continued to work out even after his tenure as a Gundam pilot had ended two years previous. He was suddenly very self-conscious and was thankful that he hadn’t abandoned a fitness routine.

Trowa’s mouth slowly made its way back up to Quatre’s and the blonde was more than happy to meet the force of Trowa’s kiss with his own. Trowa’s chuckle against his lips sent another wave of chills down his spine. Quatre used his arms as leverage to push Trowa back slightly, causing the taller pilot to sit upright as his knees straddled Quatre’s leg.

No longer using one arm for balance, Trowa grabbed Quatre’s shirt with both hands and tugged. Quatre knew exactly what he wanted and though he wanted it too, he couldn’t fully banish the nervousness he felt at the thought of undressing. His stomach clenched in knots even as he helped Trowa remove his shirt.

____________________________________________________________________

Now that the shirt was no longer in the way, Trowa leaned forward, once again pressing Quatre back against the blankets. His mouth found Quatre’s and his kisses were welcomely received. Trowa was in heaven, for nothing could taste sweeter than Quatre’s lips on his.

Eager to map out the rest of Quatre’s body with his mouth Trowa slid his tongue downward along Quatre’s neck, prompting a small moan to escape his lips and an arch of his back, causing their hips to rock against each other. The friction threatened to take his breath away. As much as he wanted to turn him over and have his way with him right here and now, Trowa forced himself to stay in control.

Instead, he contented himself with nipping along Quatre’s shoulder. As much as he loved the response he got from going after Quatre’s neck, they were still currently in the military and if either of them showed up in uniform with visible marks, they would both be in trouble.

Trowa’s teeth scraping and tongue massaging his shoulder had Quatre moaning and catching his breath in equal measure. Trowa’s hands roamed his chest, fingers rolling over and around his nipples, teasing in the most delightful and agonizing way. Without any warning Trowa took one in his mouth, sucking on it slowly. Quatre jumped slightly from his position underneath the taller pilot. He threw his head back, eyes wide and gasping for breath.

Trowa was just as surprised as Quatre apparently had been. He hadn’t expected such a violent reaction and immediately worried that something had gone wrong. “You okay?” he asked in concern, looking up at Quatre’s upturned face.

Quatre couldn’t help but think that the sound of Trowa’s voice was a little strange, considering their intimate silence up until now. “Yeah,” he responded tentatively between breaths. “Just...wasn’t expecting it.”

It suddenly dawned on Trowa that this might very well be Quatre’s first time being intimate. “Quatre?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” Quatre responded, wondering where this continued conversation was going.

Trowa put his hands on either side of Quatre, bringing himself up high enough to look Quatre in the eyes. His emerald eyes searched Quatre’s aquamarine with concern. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked softly, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious about this new twist in their relationship.

Quatre felt his face flush again. It seemed to be his default color today.

Trowa didn’t need to hear a verbal response. That delightful blush of his was all the answer he needed. He rocked back to his knees, creating distance between them, much to Quatre’s dismay. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t picked up on it sooner. Knowing Quatre, he shouldn’t be surprised. He should have expected it.

“Trowa?” Quatre asked.

“Hmm?”

“Is that bad?” he asked somewhat sheepishly.

“No,” Trowa replied. “It’s just that...If you’ve never..” Trowa trailed off. Words had never been a strength of his and he just didn’t know what the right thing to say in this situation was. He hadn’t yet been intimate with someone who wasn't experienced.

Quatre propped himself up on one elbow and smiled. A small one, but it was there. “Trowa I’m fine. I would have stopped you if I wanted you to.”

Trowa fixed Quatre with a critical look, but his friend didn’t wither. Using his free hand Quatre hooked a finger into the collar of Trowa’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. Trowa settled down on top of Quatre once more, kicking off shoes that he had forgotten he hadn’t gotten rid of yet and entwined their legs.

After some healthy time spent rediscovering each other’s mouths, Trowa went back to giving attention to Quatre’s nipples. He could feel the tension in the blonde’s muscles that he remembered came from inexperience, so he continued teasing and playing until Quatre relaxed under his careful ministrations.

Trowa’s mouth traveled lower, over his chest and down towards his navel. His gentle, almost imperceptible touch against the blonde’s sides became stronger and more needy. As his hands continued lower, caressing Quatre’s delicate pale skin, he began to notice large splotches of deep, angry looking blue and purple.

“Quatre,” he said disapprovingly as he inspected Quatre’s other side, which was also covered in similar bruises.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Quatre started to say.

“The hell it is. You look like you got trampled.” Trowa responded with a scowl. Quatre’s eyes dropped to the bed.

“Near enough,” he muttered under his breath before meeting Trowa’s eyes again. “They gave me a clean bill of health. I told you I was a little sore…”

“No shit.” Trowa interrupted, a stern expression on his face.

Quatre opened his mouth to shoot back a retort but came up empty.

Trowa leaned into Quatre, but instead of kissing him as the blonde expected, he began pulling the blankets out from under the smaller pilot. “Come on,” he said to Quatre as he shuffled under the covers, holding them open for Quatre in invitation.

Quatre smiled and gingerly, so as not to put pressure on his bruised ribs, contentedly snuggled up with the tall brunette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter (especially the juicy bit at the end). I've been itching to post it all week, so there you have it. Chapter 12 is currently being worked on and will hopefully be done within another week. As always, I would appreciate any feedback. As an author it really does help. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a really fun chapter to write. There were several fun parts that I hope you all truly enjoy. As I said before, the Monstrosity suit is talked about a bit more in-depth. I'd be interested in anyone's opinion on it. 
> 
> I have a couple honorable mentions to make: First to my sister who put up with me sending her snippets of this chapter via walls of text in messenger and also for helping me with coordinates during the fight scene. Also, thanks for all the other stuff that I'm sure I forgot to mention. Those coordinates are real and they are near the area where the battle is set to take place. If you Google them, they turn up as a current city. 
> 
> The next is a thank you to whoever it was that I came across (I should have made a note at the time, but I didn't - if you know who you are, please let me know so I can name you please) who made a GW fanfiction and mentioned that in their "head cannon" Quatre is something of a genius coder. It actually makes sense to me and supports both this fanfiction and an idea I have for a potential future fanfiction, so I wondered if there was any support within the fandom that this is actually the case. After looking up the Gundam Wiki page and the ZERO system, which lists Quatre and Treize as manufacturers of the system, I came to the conclusion that it can be argued within cannon that Quatre would have likely written/completed the coding for the ZERO system. This, in turn, supports my idea that Quatre would be capable enough to create a code for tracking the Monstrosity suit. So, thank you whoever you are ( I honest to goodness tried to go back and find out who you were, but I was unsuccessful - sorry!) for that bit of inspiration. 
> 
> Addition Note as of 2/9/17: I included an additional scene between Quatre and Trowa at the end of the chapter. I had debated on whether to include it or leave it for the next but couldn't make up my mind. After seeing the chapter posted, I felt the scene needed to be included, so I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> So thanks again for everyone who has read this or will read this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> ~LadyJFox

The digital alarm clock slowly came into focus as Trowa’s eyes adjusted to the singular light within the darkness that was the room. 03:46. Trowa closed his eyes and groaned inwardly. Even for him, it was early.

Underneath the half-strewn about covers, he felt a body rustle against his. Quatre laid there beside him, surprisingly enough, on his side despite the ugly black and blue bruises that covered a large portion of his torso. The discoloration along his sides had spread during the night.

Carefully shifting to his own side so as to face Quatre, he propped his elbow against the pillow, resting his head in his hand. For several minutes he watched as Quatre breathed quietly. Trowa noticed that his breaths came more shallowly than they normally should, the tender muscles around his ribs no doubt resisting any attempt at fully expanding.

Gently, so as not to disturb him, Trowa traced the offensive bruises that ran along Quatre’s exposed side. He had to admit, he still could hardly believe that his friend hadn’t had more severe injuries. _You’re lucky you didn’t have any internal bleeding_ , he told Quatre silently, running his fingers through Quatre’s long bangs.

04:05

The phone on the bedside table rang loudly, pulling Trowa out of his private thoughts. The noise didn't seem to bother Quatre at all, though. He rolled onto his stomach, burrowing his head within the pillows without so much as a grumble. With a sigh Trowa stretched his naked arm over Sleeping Beauty and answered the phone, his fingers knocking the handset off the receiver so that it was close enough for him to pull the phone to his ear.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice still groggy from sleep.

“Trowa?” came the flat albeit confused voice of Heero.

“Yeah,” Trowa said again. There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Is Quatre with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Lady Une wants us in her briefing room.”

Trowa sighed aloud. “Alright.” Trowa glanced down at Quatre as he hung up the phone. He shook his head. He still hadn’t woken up. Trowa sat back down on his side of the bed, rustling around with one hand for his shirt that he had discarded sometime during the night while gently shaking Quatre with the other. “Hey, we gotta go.”

A bright blue eye popped open, glaring at him balefully.

“Something happened,” Trowa continued as he pulled on his sweater, black instead of his typical deep green, over his head. “Lady Une wants us.”

Quatre reluctantly pulled himself out of bed and trudged over to the small dresser, flipping on the light switch as he went, bathing the room in artificial light. No use trying to change clothes in the dark. The cold metal floor chased away any lingering grogginess he had left.

Socks came on first.

“Any idea what it’s about?” he asked as he changed into dark oxford blue pants.

“Heero didn’t say,” replied Trowa as he reclined against the far wall, watching as Quatre pulled out a medium blue button up shirt. In the light, he could see new bruises starting to form along Quatre’s shoulders where the cockpit shoulder straps had held him in his seat. It rankled him.

Quatre winced, hissing sharply as his sore muscles protested while he put his shirt on. He would have to ice them later. Putting his vest on wasn’t any easier, but at least he was prepared for the painful pull as his battered muscles stretched and retracted.

Quatre gave a satisfactory tug to his vest to straighten out any wrinkles after he had secured the last button. He turned around to find Trowa leaning against the wall, eyes boring into him like a wolf eyeing sheep. “What?” he asked, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.

“It's four am,” he replied. The blonde aristocrat was better dressed than most people at any time of the day.

“Strict nannies,” Quatre offered with a helpless shrug.

Trowa shook his head with a smile as he pushed himself away from the wall. He gently prodded Quatre’s shoulder, urging the blonde to walk in front of him. Quatre opened the door as Trowa turned off the light before returning to his side.

“Were you watching me change?” Quatre asked accusingly, looking at Trowa as they walked down the corridor together. No one else seemed to be in the hallway.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Trowa said innocently as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

__________________________________________________________________

Duo yawned as he entered the conference room, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Hair stuck out at odd ends from his usually tidy braid. Seated on either side of him, Heero and Wufei, however, looked as if they naturally woke up ready for work. Sally Po, Wufei’s partner, was present as well and looked about the same as Duo felt.

Several high-ranking officers walked into the room, most of which he was unfamiliar with, save for Captain Carlisle.

The room was spacious with windows along the sides and a large screen above the head of the long table that sat in the center. Surrounded by military officials stood Lady Une, a slender woman of middle height and brown hair discussed matters with various individuals. The air about her commanded respect appropriate to that of a former military colonel and current leader of the Preventers peacekeeping force.

“Where are Trowa and Quatre?” he asked Heero quietly as he looked around at the many faces that were present. He couldn’t see either of his friends amongst the people already here. “Trowa didn’t pick up the phone when I tried calling him. Were you able to get a hold of Quatre?”

“They’re coming,” replied Heero in a tone that spoke of a closed discussion.

Duo stared at his dark haired friend for a moment. “Do you know something I don’t,” he asked suspiciously, but before Heero could answer the door behind them slid open.

____________________________________________________________________

Quatre felt incredibly self-conscious as he and Trowa walked into the conference room together. Several heads turned to look at the latecomers.

It appeared that they were the last to arrive.

The irrational fear that the whole room knew that he and Trowa had shared the same bed raced through his mind. He forced his expression to appear neutral as he and Trowa took the remaining open seats next to Heero.

Heero, who sat with his arms crossed, gave the blonde a sidelong glance, “Some of the officers just got here,” he said quietly. “You’re not late.”

The tension eased from his body as he gave his friend subtle nod in gratitude. He could see Duo turning his suspicious glare onto him and he tried to shoot back a look that said they would talk later.

It was then that Lady Une brought the room to order.

“Sorry to pull everyone out of bed at such an ungodly hour, but there have been some developments that need to be brought to your attention,” she said as the large TV turned on. Several images popped up to show aerial scans of stationed enemy troops.

“These were taken along the former Chinese border. It looks as though the Eurussians have already secured the area and are now in the process of fortifying troops there. This move was successfully completed more than a day ahead of schedule.”

Another set of pictures appeared on the screen, this time showing troop movement. “They are also sending more troops our way. We haven’t yet been able to capture their base, so we expect that these troops will try to refortify existing troops.”

“When are they expected to arrive?” asked Captain Carlisle. Dark brown eyes scanned a paper file in front of him. Early into middle age, his jet black hair had yet to gray. Resting casually in his seat with one leg crossed over the other, his toned frame spoke of a career in combat.

“We expect the incoming troops to be here within twelve hours,” replied a younger officer, perhaps in his late twenties. He looked intimidated by the company he found himself in, but his voice carried the conviction of his analysis.

“Already?” asked Captain Karga doubtfully.

“Yes sir,” replied the officer.

Quatre flipped through his own paper copy. _Looks about right. Still...that’s pretty quick._

“They’re coming from Chinese territory?” asked Heero.

“We believe so, yes sir.”

“In light of this information,” Lady Une announced. “We will engage the Eurussian forces currently here at 06:00 with the goal of having taken control of their base before reinforcements arrive. We will attack with a frontal assault and adjust tactics as necessary.”

Quatre’s gaze shot from his file to Lady Une. It was the correct play, but...his suit wouldn’t be anywhere near ready and that monstrosity was still out there.

“What about that invisible mobile suit?” asked Duo with his hand slightly raised. “Not to be an alarmist or anything, but that thing is on a whole different level.”

“Whatever made it invisible eventually stopped working, so hopefully either its abilities are down or it might stay out of the fight,” Lady Une replied. “Either way, we will have to chance it. We can’t afford to wait until their reinforcements get here.”

Lady Une continued without pause. “The engineering units have been up all night to resupply our current suits. Modified Taurus suits one, two, three, and five are ready to go.” She fixed Quatre with a steady expression. “You’re staying put, Quatre.”

After the meeting was dismissed and most everyone had filed out of the room Quatre approached Lady Une. “I need to be out there,” he told her firmly.

Her understanding smile took some of the conviction out of him. “Your suit isn’t combat ready. You know that.”

“There has to be another one I can use temporarily,” he pressed.

“I already have two suits out of commission on your account,” she replied, her voice taking on a stern tone. “Besides, I’m well aware of your physical condition. You might be cleared to fly, but your doctor assures me that sitting this one out won’t do you any harm.”

Quatre opened his mouth in rebuttal, but Une cut him off before he could get there. “That’s the end of it,” she told him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder as she walked past him.

Quatre watched her go dejectedly. How was he going to be able to sit and watch as everyone else fought without him?

“At least you tried, Buddy Boy,” Duo said, slapping him on the back. Quatre gave his friend a slightly annoyed look. The other pilot didn’t seem to notice. “Well, if we’re going to be up, we might as well get some breakfast,” he said, stretching as he led the way out the door.

As the five pilots walked down the hall, Quatre allowed the others to outdistance him. Even Trowa, with his face buried in the paper files from the meeting, was far down the hall. He followed at his own pace, hands in his pockets. He stopped as the others passed the hallway that led to the MME unit. He looked back to the others. Duo was obviously trying to have a conversation with Heero while Trowa and Wufei appeared to be discussing something file related.

He turned down the hallway and made his way to the repair hangar.

________________________________________________________________

Trowa and Wufei were lost in conversation as the group made their way down to the mess hall. Though it was almost five in the morning the place was already filled with soldiers coming on shift.

“Hey, where’s Quatre?” Duo asked in surprise, suddenly realizing they were one man short.

Trowa looked up from his file folder and turned around. Sure enough, Quatre was nowhere to be seen. _Where did he go?_

“I’ll go find him,” Heero said as he walked off.

“Is he alright,” asked Wufei suspiciously.

“Probably just sulking since he can’t have any fun this round,” replied Duo. “I would be too man. Though I have to say, I’m in no rush to meet that new suit.”

Trowa stared after Heero. A slight tinge of worry crept into the back of his brain. Sure, Quatre had been upset that he had been grounded for this fight, but he wouldn’t do anything stupid, surely.

________________________________________________________________

Quatre leaned against the railing that overlooked his damaged modified Taurus, draping his forearms over the edge. Watching the mechanics strip off what useable pieces they could salvage for repurposing, he understood why everyone had been so worried. The side of the torso was so badly bent in that the sharp metal probably would have skewered him if it had bent any further. The thing was totaled.

Already the team had another Taurus in the docking bay right next to it. The scimitars and the shoulder packs housing his beam sabers had already been fitted to the new suit.

He felt the warmth of a body come up silently and stand beside him. Quatre smiled at the company. He didn’t need to look to know it was Heero who had joined him. The quiet, calculated control that always seemed to emanate from the broody pilot was recognition enough.

“They’ve got two units working on your Taurus,” Heero told him.

“I know,” Quatre replied. “It’s a shame the first one got totaled when it could have been avoided,” he said as he stared at the dead mobile suit, his smile fading. “I shouldn’t have been on my own like that. Not that far out. I was arrogant.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” Heero said matter-of-factly. There was no resentment or accusation to be found there. Quatre was grateful for the lack of blame, even if he didn’t quite agree with being let off the hook.

“I knew better. Should have done better.”

“You’ve always been too hard on yourself Quatre. It was a difficult battle. We all need be more careful than we were yesterday.”

“I suppose so,” he replied with a sigh. It really didn’t make him feel any better, but Heero had always been a helpful sounding board for clarity. The guy seemed to always have a steadfast sense of logic. Sometimes annoyingly so.

“Quatre…” Heero said after a long pause. “It’s none of my business what you and Trowa do, but whatever it is that you _do_ do, can’t get in the way of what we’re trying to accomplish.”

Quatre couldn’t keep himself from grinning at that, though he wasn’t sure why. Blunt and to the point as ever. _Of course, he would have picked up on it, he thought to himself._

He did look over at Heero then. The expression the other pilot was giving him was one of controlled indifference. He could tell Heero wasn’t comfortable having this conversation, but professionalism required it. He respected the guy for not balking at the task, but he couldn’t help but resent the intrusion, so he allowed himself to feel a bit of delight in Heero’s discomfort.

“Do you really think we would let that happen?” he asked honestly.

Heero shrugged and turned around. “Probably not, but it had to be said.” He leaned his back against the rail and crossed his arms, looking at nothing in particular. “Trowa’s always had a bit of a blind spot when it comes to you and feelings complicate situations on the battlefield. Especially when both individuals are fighting.”

Quatre mulled that over for a while, turning his eyes back to the mangled Taurus. _A blind spot?_ “It’s a valid concern, sure,” he admitted. “But neither of us fought like we did back then to drop the ball now. No matter what happens, we will not allow this peace to die,” he told Heero firmly.

Quatre felt Heero push off the railing and place a steadying hand on his shoulder. He tore his gaze from the mutilated suit and again met Heero’s eyes. There was that steadfast look in them that was always there. Like he knew the path ahead and wasn’t afraid of the odds.

Heero always played the long odds.

He turned away and began walking. “Come on. Duo’s wondering where you went and Wufei should have some data on that new mobile suit soon.”

Quatre pushed off the railing and turned to follow. He stopped and took one more look at his old Taurus. Functional mobile suits were such a precious commodity right now. They couldn’t afford to be so careless again. None of them.

He turned and followed Heero out of the hangar.  
________________________________________________________________

Trowa looked up from his files as Heero and Quatre approached their table. His eyes searched Quatre questioningly. The blonde gave him what barely passed for a smile and shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just took a look at the Taurus.”

“We took the liberty of feeding you slow pokes,” Duo teased. Trowa watched as Quatre’s smile turned genuine. “Thanks, Duo.” He and Heero sat down on either side of him while Duo pushed their plates at them from the opposite side. Wufei, who had been conspicuously absent for the last several minutes, sat down next to Duo. He set a tablet down in the center of everyone.

“The most current information we have regarding that new suit,” he said as he returned to his own breakfast. “All analyses point to it being a derivative of the Tallgeese.”

Trowa scrolled through the file as he ate. He huffed at the title it had apparently been given. “The Monstrosity?” he asked, glancing up at Wu Fei who shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t name it”

Trowa went back to the file. Invisible cloaking technology...they knew that. As of yet undetermined source. Not surprising. Scorpion-like left arm. _Now that is interesting_ , he thought to himself.

He remembered watching the jet black suit pummeling Quatre’s Taurus with that arm. With just a few hits it had done a tremendous amount of damage. A section labeled ‘Shield Ram’ caught his attention. Obviously, it referred to the main right arm that had held Quatre’s suit. From what little photos the file had, he could tell that the shield was mounted on the shoulder and swooped downward above the whole right arm. “Are those claws?” he asked out loud. The picture was grainy, so it was difficult to make out, but the razored tip of the shield looked as if it had claws like a crane hanging upside down from underneath the shield.

“Makes sense,” replied Duo contemplatively.

“Slam into someone with an offensive shield, do some initial damage, then hook on with the claw so your enemy can’t get away…” finished Wufei.

“This suit is designed to kill pilots,” Quatre said quietly. Trowa looked over at the blonde sitting next to him. Completely immersed in the suit's file, his breakfast had been abandoned. “Look here,” he said as he blew up a picture and indicated a long area underneath the shield within the fuzzy image. “It’s not clear, but that has to be what rammed the cockpit.”

“It looked like a pile driver,” Trowa added.

“It felt like it too,” Quatre responded, glancing up at Trowa before looking back at the others. “I was done after that thing took off my sword arm. He could have left me alone. I wasn’t a threat anymore.”

“But he kept at you,” Duo muttered.

“He went after my cockpit _specifically_ when there was no reason to. If that thing had hit me again, I wouldn’t be here. This thing isn’t just designed to take out mobile suits. It’s designed to kill pilots.”

“Make sense,” Wufei echoed Duo. “It’s easier to replace a machine than it is those that operate them.”

“So why didn’t it?” asked Duo. Everyone looked up at the long-haired pilot. “Hey, I’m not complaining that Quatre’s still around and kicking,” he said defensively, putting his hands up. “But if this was designed to kill pilots…” he said as he pointed at the tablet. “What happened?”

“That driver looked like it was cocked and ready to hit again, but it didn’t. If it’s a new suit, there might be operating complications. Especially if they rushed it off the production line,” Trowa offered.

“So it won’t be ranged,” Heero said, coursing through the materials.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Wufei concurred. “What we have indicates that it is probably exclusively designed as a melee suit.”

“If we can hit it from a distance, we’ve got a chance against it,” Trowa replied.

“We just have to see it first,” Quatre said contemplatively. Everyone was quiet after that as they went back to breakfast and their own thoughts. Trowa continued to scan the file as he ate and drank his coffee. His brows furrowed as he re-read the information.

“There’s no mention of the heat haze,” he said.

“The what?” asked Duo confusedly from his cereal.

“The heat haze,” Trowa said again. “I saw it just before the suit became visible. It was like seeing the waves of heat coming from jet engines.”

“You saw that before it became visible?” asked Wufei with interest. Trowa nodded.

“It was quick, though. I didn’t see it until right before its cloaking mechanism stopped working.”

“Then maybe we have a chance at finding it,” Quatre said optimistically as he took over looking through the file.

Several minutes later a voice announced over the ship’s speakers. “Attention personnel. Operation Foxhole is about to begin. All necessary individuals, please report to your assigned locations. I repeat: Operation Foxhole is about to begin. All necessary individuals please report to your assigned locations.”

“Well that was quick,” Duo sighed.

Trowa placed a comforting hand on Quatre’s shoulder as they all got up from their seats. Their eyes met. Trowa saw concern and the disappointment of getting left behind in his eyes. Trowa could understand the anxiety of watching comrades going into battle without out you. _It must be harder after last night_ , he thought.

“Be careful,” Quatre told them while keeping his eyes fixed on Trowa.

He gave Quatre’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as the others started walking towards the mobile suit hangar. “We’ll be fine. We know he’s there and what to look for now,” he tried to reassure him. The blonde’s blue eyes didn’t seem to buy it, though. Reluctantly, he turned around and followed the others.

________________________________________________________________

Quatre regretfully watched the others leave. _It’s my own fault, I suppose_ , he chastised himself. He quickly threw away everyone’s discarded breakfast and after picking up the abandoned tablet made his way to the ship’s bridge. He wasn’t going to be cut out of this fight completely.

He walked briskly down the hallway, intent on where he was going. He didn’t stop to think about whether or not he would even be allowed onto the bridge. The two officers standing outside didn’t seem to mind as he approached. The double doors slid to the side, opening in front of him without resistance. With the feeling that this was where he was supposed to be, Quatre stepped into the Axiom’s command center.

The bridge was a busy place. Several officers manned their posts at the multiple computer stations while others relayed information from other areas of the ship. The captain’s chair sat on a platform that stood higher than the rest. Behind the captain’s chair and to the left were several rows of computer monitors that looked like communications equipment. To the right were similar rows of computers that appeared to monitor logistics and supply information. Both side rows were staggered downward like the seats in a movie theater. Straight ahead were large screens displaying the battlefield layout, terrain, radar, and visuals.

Captain Carlisle had already taken his seat in the chair as Lady Une stood to his left. While Une controlled the whole of Preventer, Captain Carlisle had the final say in regards to the Axiom. The two made a commanding pair.

Sally Po walked up to him from the right, forcing his attention onto her. “I was wondering when you’d get here,” she said with a supportive smile.

“Give him a headset.”

Quatre turned his head sharply toward Lady Une who had shifted her attention from the Captain onto him. They looked at each other with an unspoken understanding. He could remain so long as he didn’t get in the way. She turned back to the front.

Sally clapped him on the shoulder as she led him over to a position on the right, behind most of the tactical control officers. Most of the screens were more specialized feeds of what was presented on the large center ones. “At least she didn’t kick you off the bridge,” she teased with a twinkle in her eye. She then traded Quatre’s tablet for a clear earpiece with a small microphone attachment.

He glanced in Sally’s direction as he adjusted the fit around his ear and the microphone next to his cheekbone. “At least she didn’t kick me off the bridge,” he agreed.

He looked back towards Une. He hadn’t met her personally until this escapade and even then they hadn’t talked much, so he hadn’t known how she would react to his arrival. Most people wouldn’t have been allowed to simply walk onto the bridge like he had. _I’m pushing my luck today_ , he thought to himself.

“If that invisible suit shows up, I want as many eyes on it as possible,” Lady Une said as she glanced down at Carlisle. The Captain was looking straight ahead as the Preventer forces began their forward movement.

“We have all available resources on alert for it,” he reassured her, indicating several aerial video feeds.

“That frequency is set directly to the other Gundam pilots’” Sally told him, bringing his attention back to his earpiece. “It’s already on. Once they start talking you’ll hear them. Just press the center of the earpiece to talk and again to mute yourself.”

Fifteen minutes later a tactical officer announced over the bridge, “Enemy mobile suits acquired. Engagement in thirty seconds.”

He could hear other officers giving directions to Preventer units. Quatre’s muscles tensed in anticipation and his stomach turned into knots. He doubted that feeling would ever go away before a battle.

The atmosphere was definitely different up here than behind a cockpit. Compared to the thrill pilots experienced set against the terrifying knowledge that you might die, the bridge felt calculated, controlled, and almost sterile. It was rather surreal to know that these people were making decisions that might influence the life or death of his friends.

The tactical officer could be heard over the bridge again. “Enemy engagement in ten...nine...eight…” He felt the tingle of anticipation run down his spine and goosebumps form along his arms. His fingers itched like they had when Sally showed them their modified suits for the first time. “Seven...six...five…” Without a seat to sit in or an object to fiddle with, Quatre stuffed his hands in his pockets. Back straight and eyes up, he watched the footage on the large center screens.

“Four...three...two...one. Enemies engaged.”

The screens lit up with a line of explosions. Relief swept over him as he heard Duo’s voice in his ear, followed by reactions and answers from the others. He looked down and over the shoulder of the officer in front of him. The four of them were fighting as a group in the center, trying to wedge the remaining Eurussian forces apart, much as the enemy reinforcements had tried to do to them just the other day.

Over the next hour, Quatre watched anxiously as the battlefield ebbed and swelled. Despite their loss yesterday, the Eurussians were persistent buggers. Many times Quatre’s heart caught in his throat as his friends encountered close calls. If they’d been just a little more to the right or if they hadn't seen that suit coming at them from the left...But so far, so good. He had stayed quiet throughout the battle so far, seeing no beneficial information to give his friends.

Suddenly something caught his eye in the left corner of the battle map. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one either. “Ally suits are dropping quickly in the southwest quadrant,” called a tactical officer.

“Can you tell what it is?” asked the Captain.

“Negative sir,” the officer answered. “We can’t see a specific mobile suit, but our guys are dropping like flies over there. We’re assuming it’s the new mobile suit.”

Quatre pulled his hands out of his pockets and leaned over the closest officer’s shoulder. “Enlarge this area please,” he told her, indicating the area he wanted.

The officer in front of him brought up the visual feed. Sure enough, Preventer mobile suits were getting either their heads or their torsos crushed in with one hit before being left to fall helplessly on the field.

Quatre’s mouth set in a firm line. _That’s definitely it._ He didn’t see anything around it like Trowa described, though. As it was, he simply didn’t have a good idea on how to track that thing. He tapped his earpiece. “Just to let you guys know, that suit showed up,” he said, leaning his weight onto his hands on the console next to the female officer, staring up at the main screen.

“Hey Quatre, buddy!” came Duo’s excited response.

“No surprise,” replied Trowa calmly. Quatre’s heart beat just a little faster at hearing his voice.

“It’s in the southwest, so be careful,” he told them before muting himself. Feeling eyes on him, he looked to his left. Lady Une was staring at him. He didn’t look away and she nodded in approval. He looked back at the officer’s zoomed in the screen as he heard Captain Carlisle direct the aerial drones into that quadrant.

Quatre stared hard at the screen trying to come up with something to help them. _With so many ally mobile suits, there’s no way we can try to flush it out by firing and just hoping our rounds hit it._ Just then he saw something shimmer on the screen. At first, he thought it was his imagination, but then he saw it again further up. _Heat haze from a jet engine._ It was barely visible, but it was there.

“I got it!” he called out. “Bring that up on the big screen, please,” he told the officer. She enlarged the quadrant and put it on the front display. Quatre grinned excitedly as he moved towards the center of the room. “See that?” he asked to no one in particular. He pointed as it moved from target to target. “It’s hardly noticeable, but that haze there. That’s it.”

“How can you be sure?” the Captain asked suspiciously. “We are in the Middle East...it’s hot.”

“He’s sure,” Lady Une replied, effectively bringing the discussion to a close.

Quatre’s mouth set in a firm line as he placed his hands on his hips contemplatively. _Now that we can see it, how do we predict it?_ “Are we getting a heat reading off that thing?” he asked, half turning towards Lady Une and the Captain.

Lady Une turned towards one of her information officers questioningly. “Negative, sir,” the officer replied. _Not surprising._ Quatre looked back to the screen. He could still see it. Barely, but it was there. _The difference must not be enough for the heat detectors to catch it._

He tapped his earpiece again. “Can any of you guys see that heat haze Trowa was talking about earlier?” A chorus of negatives resounded in his ear. Again, not surprising.

“If you can’t see it now, odds are you won’t at all,” he replied as an idea started to form in his head. “Give me a sec.”

Quatre muted himself and half-turned towards lady Une. There was a spark in her eye and a knowing smile had started to spread across her lips. She knew he was onto something.“What are you getting at?” she asked.

“It makes sense. It’s caused by temperature differences between layers of air. This invisible suit is essentially convectively transferring heat from itself to the air around it,” he said excitedly with a spark in his eye and a knowing smirk on his face.

Silence. _Right…Okay._

He took a steadying breath. “It’s a type of mirage,” he explained. “They disappear the closer you are to the object that creates it,” He watched as understanding washed over her as she joined him on the same page.

“No one else _has_ to see it, so long as someone up _here_ sees it,” she said quietly.

“We just have to change tactics a little,” he finished for her in excitement. He turned back around to face the big screens and tapped his earpiece again. “We’ve got it, guys.  
________________________________________________________________

“We’ve got it guys” came Quatre’s voice on the radio. Trowa couldn’t help the small smile that snuck its way onto his lips at the sound of Quatre’s voice in his ear. It sounded like he had a plan. The guy was a smart tactician. Probably one of the best, despite having been a civilian less than a week ago.

He vividly remembered how Quatre had led them in an impressive tactical dance against the White Fang’s mobile doll army that had operated under the equally brilliant strategic mind of Dorothy Catalonia. The two had been formidable enemies. Enough so that Zechs, ace mobile suit pilot and leader of the White Fang had targeted Quatre specifically in an attempt to cripple the Gundam pilots’ tactical abilities.

Even if he wasn’t on the battlefield with them, Quatre’s tactical support was a welcome comfort.

“We’re changing tactics.”

“Huh?” he heard Duo ask in surprise. “But we’re making a lot of headway.”

“Which you will loose as that suit ramps up,” came Quatre’s reply.

“What’s your idea?” Heero asked.

“Everyone’s falling back into the front line,” Quatre explained. “Two rows of Preventer suits will cover the length of the field. Trowa, you’re going to get behind them. You’re going to use everything you’ve got left on that invisible suit.”

“Roger that,” he responded.

“You can see it, then?” asked Heero.

A pause from the other side.

“Yes.”

“So how do we track it?” Wufei chimed in. The excitement of taking on that Monstrosity could be heard in his voice. But Trowa knew better. He knew what Quatre was getting at.

“You can’t,” Quatre answered.

“Wait, what?” Duo said in confusion.

“Heero, Duo, and Wufei, you guys are going to spread yourselves out in front of the Preventer suits. You are the first line.” Trowa could hear the concern in the blonde’s voice, despite the conviction with which he dictated tactics.

Among the affirmative responses from the other pilots, Duo was the last to figure it out. “That would make us...You’re using us as bait?!”

“Don’t make it obvious.” Quatre’s response was short with just a hint of snark. Trowa chuckled while Duo pouted as they all took their new positions.

“That suit was taking out normal Preventer units, but I don’t think it’s noticed you guys yet. This way, you’re impossible to miss,” Quatre explained. “He’s going to want to take you guys out first, so the rest of the forces will be easier to pick off.”

Trowa watched from behind the Preventer lines as Heero, Duo, and Wufei spread out in order from left to right. He kept his eyes peeled as he watched the enemy forces regrouping as well. A tight, short column formation.

“Quatre?” he asked.

“I’ll give you coordinates. Just be prepared,” came the reassuring answer. Trowa’s body hummed in anticipation. He hoped Quatre’s gamble worked.

Silence descended upon them with a lack of missiles and gunfire. The only sound was the mechanical crunch as the opposing mobile suits trudged slowly towards each other. There weren’t many Eurussian suits left, but they still kept coming and with that monstrosity out there, all bets were off.

It was dangerous, leaving the other three Gundam pilots in the front. Due to the slow encroachment of Preventer forces towards the enemy line, the move would look like a strategic restructuring of forces, but the chance that their plan would be figured out was still probable.

Outwardly, he was calm, cool and focused. On the inside, though, the anticipation of the monstrosity suit’s arrival grated against Trowa’s nerves. His missile programming was ready, waiting for Quatre’s coordinates.

_____________________________________________________________________

Quatre stood once again at the side of the tactical officer who had was following the heat wave given off by the monstrosity suit. They had lost it and were trying to to find it again before it attacked one of the Gundam pilots.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Nothing sir. The regular Preventer suits have stopped dropping, but I’m just not seeing it.”

Quatre cursed silently in his head. Adrenalin filled his veins and his hands itched. It was foreign not to have controls beneath his fingers. “Enlarge the battle area for me, please.”

The screen zoomed out. The picture quality reduced, making it potentially harder to see the heat haze, but finding it with superimposed images would be like playing whack-a-mole blind.

After a few seconds, he thought he saw something. “There!” he said, pointing. “Follow that.” The tactical officer enlarged the area and sure enough, there it was. That faint shimmer of heat. He clapped her on the shoulder as he watched it head straight for Heero, who was closest. “Alright. Stay on him.”

He tapped his earpiece again. “Trowa.”

“I’m here.”

“We got him. He’s coming at Heero. Aim for 43.0250 by 44.6660. On my mark.” He could hear Trowa inserting the coordinates.

“Copy that,” came Trowa’s clipped response.

Heero’s calm voice came over the earpiece. “Don’t miss.”

Quatre waited a few seconds more. The hair stood on end at the back of his neck. He could feel his heart hammering from the anticipation. They had one shot at this. “In five...four...three...two...one...fire!”

He could here Trowa launch the entirety of his artillery. He looked up to the big screen. Smoke and fire billowed from his modified Taurus as the missiles and bullets aimed at a target he couldn’t see. Quatre held his breath.

A series of blasts appeared seemingly from thin air. A raucous cheer erupted from the bridge. Quatre allowed himself a satisfied grin. _Let’s hope that damages it enough._

The heat haze shimmered a moment longer as the invisible suit became pinned down under the concussive forces. The black behemoth slowly became visible as the smoke cleared.

Everyone’s breath caught in awe as it crouched there, within mere seconds of flying distance from Heero. For a moment it looked directly into the camera of a drone. Red metallic eyes glared at them from miles away.

It sent a shiver down his back. _Holy hell._ It really was an impressive suit. His fingers twitched. He wanted his hands on it.

Without waiting for a command the three Gundam pilots descended upon it. The suit responded quickly, dodging and counterattacking against the onslaught. The battle was impressive and Quatre had to give his friends a lot of props for working so well in tandem. Heero took shots at it from a short distance while Wu Fei took the fight to that Monstrosity in close quarters. Duo dashed in and out as he could, much like Quatre would have done. Together, the enemy suit was hard pressed.

“Take it down and capture it if possible,” demanded the Captain. “I want that bastard in my holding bay.”

The Preventer forces slowly marched forward in their line. The regular Eurussian troops began to back off and lose their formation. Another excited cry rose up from officers on the bridge before the Captain called for focus.

After several more minutes of fighting the Monstrosity managed to extricate itself and propelled itself to the east. The Eurussian troops followed as best they could. On orders from the Captain Preventer forces banded together and pursued.

“Come back to port Gundam pilots,” he said. “Let’s get you charged back up.” Another cheer erupted from everyone. This time, he didn’t silence them. Jubilation was short lived as many officers returned their attentions to their squadrons, guiding them as best as possible in the pursuit of enemy forces.

Quatre watched them turn around and head back in, albeit somewhat reluctantly. He tapped his earpiece, shutting it off, before removing it from his ear. He smiled. They’d survived and he had a pretty good idea on how to track it next time.

He turned to Sally and spoke with her quietly for a minute, explaining his idea. They traded equipment again. Earpiece for the tablet. With their previous information, anything new they obtained from this battle, and his idea, he was confident he could create a workable beta-program by the next fight.

“Quatre.” He froze at the deep sound of the Captain saying his name. Slowly he turned around, unsure of what to expect. “Well done.”

His voice was level and somewhat warmer than it had been previously. Quatre let out a breath of relief he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He tipped his head in the man’s direction as thanks. He really was a commanding person whom he would rather not get into an argument with.

“You have an idea.” This time it was Lady Une who spoke. She had that knowing smile on her face again.

“I think I can track it.”

“Really?” she asked with an amused lilt in her voice.

He nodded solemnly. “We’ll be forced to beta test it in a real fight, which poses a significant risk but without capturing that suit to run tests...It’s best we’ll have and better than hoping someone can spot a heat haze in the chaos of battle.”

“You did get lucky there,” she mused. “You can do it?”

“Yeah. I wrote the ZERO system.” Her expression went from confident to shocked.

He heard Sally take a sharp breath behind him. “Are you serious?” she asked.

“You what?” replied Lady Une. _Well shit. Guess I let that cat out of the bag._ Apparently, that wasn’t common knowledge. “I thought the engineers did.”

“The outline of it, yes, but they never wrote the code for it. They thought it was too powerful a system to be put into use. Retrospectively, I’d agree. Too few soldiers can handle that system. The cost-benefit ratio is lousy,” he explained. “But to answer your question, I wrote the code for it. If I can do that, I can do this.”

Lady Une schooled her expression. “Well then, it looks like you have some work to do.”

Quatre nodded and briskly left the bridge. After walking a few paces he let out a long sigh. _Foot in mouth_ , he admonished himself. That information really would have been better kept quiet. But how was he supposed to know that the infamous Lady Une hadn’t known he’d written the system.

After he’d been captured with Heero, he’d thought that information would have been known to a high ranking soldier such as her. Sure she’d been in a coma at that point, but the Preventer organization had extensive files on all of the Gundam pilots. Apparently, they weren’t as extensive as he might have thought.

“Paradise Unit docking,” came a voice over the PA system. “Paradise Unit docking.” Quatre smiled and made his way quickly towards the docking bay. Today had been a good day and he was excited to see Trowa again.

He waited in the hallway for the others to emerge from the docking bay, the tablet with his program notes in hand. The other pilots were present as well, but his eyes were fixed on Trowa.

The sight of him caused his breath to catch and his heart to stutter. The form-fitting combat suit hugged Trowa’s muscularly slender body like soft leather as the older pilot strode slowly towards him, hands tucked casually in his pockets. Everything about him oozed confidence, control, and a job well done.

It threatened to make his knees go weak.

Trowa’s own intense eyes seemed to bore into him and he couldn’t contain his smile as the taller pilot walked over, stopping within an inch of him. Their closeness forced him to look up in order to meet those deep green eyes. Despite his growth spurt that reduced their height gap, Quatre doubted he would ever _not_ be forced to look up into those eyes. He didn’t mind the thought.

“Thanks for not dying,” he said with a playful tease.

“Thanks for being my eyes,” came Trowa’s sincere response. The smoky depth of his voice sent a shiver down his spine. Quatre was vaguely aware of someone in the distance mentioning lunch and a nap as the sound of footsteps faded away into the distance. The clatter of mechanics working in the docking bay filtered down around them, but they were very much alone for the moment.

Trowa unexpectedly stepped forward, causing him to retreat backward in response. Suddenly, Quatre felt his back press against the cold metal wall of the hallway as Trowa leaned in, hands planted firmly against the wall on either side of him. Quatre’s free hand pressed against the wall while the other tightly gripped the tablet, partially so as not to drop it. Partially because he needed something to keep his hands from wandering. They were still in the hallway after all.

He was thankful for the wall at his back. He wasn’t entirely sure his legs would support him on their own as his heart began to race. The ground felt increasingly less solid when Trowa stood so close. A warmth that had nothing to do with room temperature spread over him.

Trowa’s green eyes held him still. Pinned against the wall, he had nowhere to go as Trowa leaned in and kissed him. Hard.

All concern for professional decorum flew from his mind.

The force of the kiss caused his breath to hitch. His lips parted without reservation, allowing Trowa’s tongue to ravage his mouth. The guy tasted of old coffee and smelled like jet fuel. Quatre could feel the fabric of his pants grow tight.

Trowa’s kisses were fierce and heavy as he took the blonde’s mouth for his own. Quatre would have laid down money that the adrenaline from fighting was still running Trowa’s blood hotter than normal.

Perhaps it was time to slow him down a little.

Using the wall for support, Quatre met the force of Trowa’s tongue with his own, caressing slowly in discord against his lover’s frenzied need. They stayed that way for a while. Each trying to exert just a little bit more control over the other.

Trowa’s intensity hadn’t subsided. The taller pilot dictated force and pace more often than he did, but Quatre had to admit that the challenge excited him. The erection it caused was painfully obvious.

Trowa pressed himself more fully against him. He could feel Trowa’s own erection rubbing against his as the taller pilot dipped his head to the side, scraping his teeth and nipping along the side of his neck. At least he wasn’t the only one getting it up from their little power game.

His head tipped back, as much as the wall allowed anyway, finally breaking their kiss as a moan escaped him and his eyes fluttered closed. Game over.

His breaths became short and fast. His body trembled as Trowa pressed a hand against his abdomen and made its way downward, inching slowly toward the rather painful bulge in his pants that he so desperately wanted something to be done about.

“What have you got?” Trowa asked huskily against Quatre’s neck when he finally realized the younger pilot was holding something. Without waiting for an answer, Trowa nuzzled under the collar of his shirt. A button worked its way loose, granting access to more of the blonde’s bare skin. He felt Trowa smile against his shoulder before biting down.

It seemed to have the desired effect as Quatre’s eyes shot open with a strangled cry. Trowa’s warm breath tickled as he chuckled against flushed skin. A warm shiver rolled over him.

 _Holy shit!_ Electricity shot through every nerve he had. His body ached with desire. His heart raced faster than he thought possible and he had to force himself to breathe. His wide eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling.

“Quatre,” Trowa’s voice, deep, soft, and warm brought him back to focus.

Forcing his eyes to meet Trowa’s, he held out the tablet enough so that he might be able to see it, even in their position. “Designed...system...to see that suit,” he replied breathlessly. Trowa’s smile was genuine and it lifted his heart to the heavens.

“Clever Quatre,” he purred against the blonde’s lips before claiming his mouth again. His head buzzed as he smiled against Trowa’s lips. His brain couldn’t wrap itself around the satisfaction he felt from those words, but he didn’t much care.

Making sure he held the tablet securely in his left hand, he freed his right out from under Trowa’s arm, which still pressed against the wall, and threaded his fingers into the taller pilot’s caramel colored hair. His back arched of its own accord, causing his hips to grind against Trowa’s.

The moan this time didn’t come from him.

Trowa’s wandering hand pressed firmly against Quatre’s erection and began slowly caressing through the fabric. The unexpected motion of Trowa’s hand against his member caused his brain to flatline. Another gasp escaped him, once again pulling their mouths apart.

His body trembled dangerously against Trowa’s as he slowly remembered how to form a cognizant thought. He feared Trowa might have to physically keep him from collapsing before too long. Quatre dropped his forehead against Trowa’s chest as he closed his eyes and fought to remember how to breathe.

Mercifully, Trowa removed his hand from Quatre’s groin, and wrapped his arm around the blonde’s waist, and pulled in against his sturdy frame. Trowa rested his head next to his but made no other movement.

He could feel Trowa’s pounding heartbeat gradually return to normal. It helped him focus.

“Gundam Pilot 04, please dial 101. Gundam Pilot 04, please dial 101,” came a voice over the PA system.

Realization of where they were suddenly registered in his brain and panic flooded over him. With wide eyes, he looked down both ends of the hallway. Thankfully no one seemed to be around.

“Holy shit, Trowa. We’re still in the freaking hallway,” he hissed at the taller pilot who was now looking down at him with a mischievous smirk as he squirmed beneath him. Trowa, beautiful, smart, dangerously sexy Trowa was still pressed against him and it was making it difficult to concentrate...and find a phone.

“Your point?” he asked, tantalizingly grinding his hips and groin against Quatre’s. The movement caused his head to tip back and moan...again. _This is really becoming quite unfair_ , he thought. _Trowa has all the tricks when I have none._

“Gundam Pilot 04, please dial 101. Gundam Pilot 04, please dial 101.”

 _Shit!_ Quatre frantically twisted under Trowa, looking along the wall for a phone. Sure enough, there was one within reach. Thank God. Reluctantly the taller pilot took a step back, giving him enough room to lean over and grab the phone off the receiver. The distance also provided enough room for their bodies to calm down.

Quatre still had to force his breathing into a relatively normal rate as he answered the phone. “Hello?”  
________________________________________________________________

Trowa stepped back enough for Quatre to be able to reach for the wall phone. Whoever the hell it was, they were lucky they weren’t in the immediate vicinity. Hearing Quatre moan like that, feeling him squirm in pleasure beneath him, and seeing the blissed look on his face as Trowa teased him, only to be ruined by a phone call…

Frustration rolled over the taller pilot and the memory of a ferry boat played itself in his head. He forced his displeasure away as he watched the blonde’s face light up in excitement. _Must be good news._

He stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them from doing inappropriate things to Quatre while he was trying to hold a conversation. He watched the slender blonde with scrutiny. Despite his outwardly nonchalant demeanor, he was ready to catch Quatre should the blonde’s legs fail him.

He had been surprised at just how badly Quatre had trembled underneath him. Even now, he could see the blonde trembled as he pressed back against the wall for support, could hear the breathlessness in his voice. He covered it well. Enough so that he didn’t think someone who wasn’t intimately familiar with him would have picked up on it.

A few moments later Quatre hung up the phone and smiled at him, eyes sparkling. “That was Rashid. The Maguanacs have their mobile suits and they’ll be with us in a day or so. It might not help us with the next battle, but my suit should be ready by then and if I can get this program written quickly enough to give to the engineers, we should be able to see to that suit without much of a problem.”

Standing there in the hallway, almost as if the intimate moment they just shared hadn’t even happened, Quatre continued to excitedly tell him about the program he had conceptualized.

Trowa didn’t hear a word of it.

He had forgotten. Rashid was coming to fight too, along with the 39 other Maguanacs who still had their individual mobile suits separate from the Preventers. He had met Rashid only twice and while the man seemed welcoming enough, he knew that, like the rest of the Maguanacs, Rashid was Muslim. He also knew that, like within various Christian orthodoxies, homosexuality was still a highly contentious issue within that faith.

It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured on top of him. Ice ran through his veins. A contrast to the boiling hot adrenalin he had felt kissing Quatre. Trowa had never had to worry about whether anyone close to a lover would approve or even potentially retaliate against their sexuality.

But Rashid loved Quatre like his own son. That had been more than evident even in the short time Trowa had been in the giant man’s company. He doubted Rashid would become hostile if and when he found out about Quatre’s sexual preferences. Or at least he truly hoped he wouldn’t. That hope didn’t ease the fear and anxiety he suddenly felt.

“Quatre…” Trowa refocused as he met Quatre’s excited blue eyes with his own worried green ones. “Quatre.”

Quatre let his explanation on the program’s design fade as he realized Trowa had said his name not once, but twice. Quatre’s eyes searched Trowa’s questioningly. “What is it Trowa?” he asked with concern.

“Does Rashid know?”

Quatre’s response was a little slow. “What?”

Trowa steadied himself with a breath. This was by far foreign territory and he had no experience to fall back on that would instruct him on how to have this conversation. “Does Rashid know?” he asked again. “About you?”

The confused expression on Quatre’s face slowly took on a hard look. “What are you implying, Trowa?”

“I’m not implying anything,” he replied. He took a step closer, bringing himself within a hair's breadth of pressing against Quatre’s lithe form again. “But I am asking a rather important question. Have you talked to Rashid about your sexuality?” Trowa tried to keep the edge out of his voice, but the firm line of his mouth and the sharp look in his eye clearly put Quatre on the defensive.

“No,” came a clipped answer. Trowa could see the pain behind the simmer of angry fire he found in Quatre’s eyes. “And I’ve never felt that I had to.”  
________________________________________________________________

He still had his back against the wall. Trowa had stepped in closer again, enough so that their bodies almost touched like before. He clutched the tablet to his chest like a life vest even as he held Trowa’s gaze defiantly. It was getting difficult to breathe and not from any romantic or sexual passion, but from anger and offense.

Quatre was willing to concede the fact that he had never explicitly sat down with his guardian and discussed matters of love or sex, but to insinuate that Rashid might have issues with a core part of who he was...He didn't believe it. He wouldn't go down that road. He couldn’t think that way and for Trowa to actually voice the possibility made it too real of a possibility.

Deep down he knew he shouldn’t be mad at Trowa for asking the obvious question, but the fact that he couldn’t answer that question hurt. It simply hurt.

Thankfully, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Duo and Heero walking toward them from the mess hall. The pair stopped within several feet of the quarreling lovers.

Quatre was apparently the first to notice they were no longer alone and despite Trowa’s obviously intimate proximity, he placed his attention on them rather than the tall pilot directly in front of him. Duo wore a confused expression on his face. It looked like their conversation had by some miracle stayed private, though Heero stared at him knowingly.

Trowa seemed to get the message because he took a step backward and turned his own attention to their interlopers. The set of his shoulders and the rigidity of his back belied the cool expression on his face. Quatre felt a tinge of guilt working its claws into his heart.

Quatre matched Heero’s stare with his own, remembering their conversation earlier that morning. Had it only that morning? _Shit._ God help him, but he wasn’t about to prove Heero right.

Without saying a word, he turned on his heel and left in the direction of his room. He’d be able to work undisturbed there. And maybe, just maybe he could erase their conversation from his mind.  
______________________________________________________________

Trowa watched regretfully as Quatre brushed past him and walked off. He stood there, hands in his pockets for a while, painfully aware that Duo and Heero were still standing in the hallway, watching him as he watched the blonde.

Back straight, head high, and his tablet-free hand in his pocket, with a hint of aristocratic pride. Trowa was reminded of the young businessman the Winner heir was destined to become. He suppressed the urge to groan. Even angry, Quatre was sexy as sin.

After several moments of staring after Quatre into the empty hallway, he turned around and stalked off in his own direction, past Heero and Duo who thankfully didn’t say anything, though he did catch a pointed expression from the quieter of the two. He was in no mood to have any kind of romantic discussion with either of them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so sorry for the extended gap between the last chapter and this one. I was stuck on how to play out this battle. After much head banging on my desk, I realized that this battle wasn't all that critical, so I sort of skated over it. Exciting stuff is on the way though so be expecting another chapter soon! Thanks for hanging in there with me and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Update 3/26/17: So I tweaked the fight scene...a lot. Pieces of the revision had been in my head before, but I didn't know where to fit it in and I sort of forgot about it. It came back into my head a couple days ago and I think it will help set up events that happen later, so here is the revision. Some small changes were tweaked throughout the rest of the chapter, but the are so minor you might not notice them. The main difference is the battle sequence.

Duo casually strolled up to Quatre’s bedroom and leaned against the open door frame. The heir to the Winner family business sat on his bed in front of his laptop, keys clicking rapidly in a rush to finish the program he had designed to ‘see’ the Monstrosity. He watched the guy go at it for a few minutes before interrupting him.

“Burning the midday oil, huh?”

Quatre glanced up from his work with a distracted “Huh?” before returning his concentration to his work.

“You missed lunch,” he said with concern.

The keys didn’t stop clicking. “I’m almost done. This needs to get to engineering as soon as possible.”

Duo sighed in exasperation. _Always trying to solve everyone's problems._ The guy had a tendency to take care of everyone around him before himself and when he got like this, he needed a bit of looking after. “You know sometimes you’re a lot like Heero,” he told his friend as he tossed a packaged sandwich at the blonde.

Quatre’s head bobbed backward and his typing stopped as the sandwich slapped him in the forehead. He blinked, staring down absently at the makeshift missile that had fallen into his lap. Big blue eyes met his own. “Duo…”

The long-haired pilot walked over and sat cross-legged in front of his blonde friend. “Has anyone ever told you you can’t sprint a marathon?”

“I’m not a runner,” came the mild reply.

Duo put a hand on Quatre’s blonde head and pressed down, ruffling his hair. “That’s totally beside the point,” he scolded.

Quatre leaned to the right, ducking out from under Duo’s hand. “I’ll eat when I’m done.” He began typing again.

“Don’t blame me when the enemy’s at our doorstep and you pass out due to exhaustion,” he replied with a sniff.

“You’re being over dramatic,” Quatre responded with a sympathetic smile and a quick glance from his work.

Duo put his head in his hand as he gave Quatre a critical glare. Given a couple more hours when the fighting was bound to start up again he doubted his assessment would be too far off. Where most everyone else had taken a well-deserved nap after the last battle, Blondie over here had worked non-stop on this new program of his. _He’s trying to make up for getting shredded by that invisible bastard._

He’d even ignored Trowa for the most part after the four of them had returned. It had looked like they’d had some sort of private discussion immediately afterward, but since then...the two had hardly been near each other. Quatre almost seemed to avoid Trowa after they both stalked off in opposite directions earlier.

Duo thought it odd for a new couple, though circumstances certainly weren’t the most conducive to budding relationships. Still, he had thought that the current situation wouldn’t be a problem for the two of them. He was pretty sure that the other Gundam pilots had all been well aware of Trowa’s developing feelings toward their fellow comrade in arms and Quatre himself was an open book. The guy’s crush had been evident since the first war. It stood to reason that eventually the dam that held those feelings back would burst eventually and his money had been on Trowa making the first move, though he hadn’t expected it to happen with an audience in an engineering docking station.

As a mutual friend of both parties, he felt it was his personal obligation to make sure that their relationship was given plenty of opportunities to develop. Sometimes that meant a little assistance was needed.

That and he was just nosey.

“Hey, Quatre…”

“Hmm.”

“Did something happen between you and Trowa?”

The clicking immediately ceased and his friend’s blue eyes considered him carefully from the other side of the laptop. “What makes you say that?”

The tone in Quatre’s voice told him he’d been right. That tone that sounded innocent when they knew that you knew otherwise. Duo smiled on the inside. Yeah, I got you, he thought with satisfaction. “You seem like you’re suddenly avoiding each other,” he replied casually. “Seems like an 180 considering yesterday...and this morning.”

He couldn’t help teasing the guy. As soon as Trowa and Quatre had entered the conference room together and overhearing Heero’s comment towards him, added with yesterday’s action in the docking bay, he’d connected the dots to what Heero already seemed to have known.

Quatre couldn’t stop the blush from creeping into his cheeks and Duo had to admit he enjoyed getting a rise out of the guy. Poor kid really was an easy mark. He regretted it almost instantly though as his eyes dropped from Duo’s gaze to stare absently at the glowing computer screen. His handsome features and Duo was comfortable enough in himself to admit that cherubic little Quatre had grown into quite a looker, clouded over.

“Can we not talk about it?” Quatre asked quietly.

Boy, did he feel like an ass. “Yeah..sure,” he replied, voice dull with guilt. The sound of clicking from the keyboard resumed. So something _had_ happened between them. _All couples have issues, but damn...that was fast._

“You okay?” He couldn’t help himself.

The keyboard stopped making noise again as Quatre fixed him with a stern look. “Put a pin in it Duo,” he was told mildly. He’d kept the irritation from his voice, but his eyes said otherwise and Duo figured his friend would quickly lose patience with him if he didn’t drop the subject.

He stared right back in silent concern. He didn’t say anything, though he squirmed every so often as curiosity nagged at him. Quatre went back to typing but quickly stopped with a sigh. He snapped the laptop shut, causing Duo to startle at the aggravated movement. Quatre rubbed his face in his hands. “Trowa suggested Rashid might have an issue with me being gay.”

 _So that’s it_ , he thought with sudden understanding. Of course, that would be a sticky situation. _Makes sense._ “You’ve never talked about it?”

The change in Quatre was sudden. His body that had been hunched over went ramrod straight. His face that he’d held in his hands snapped up to meet his eyes. The look he shot him was one of indignation and daggers. _Geez. Definitely touchy._ If that was the look he’d given Trowa, he felt bad for the guy.

He raised his hands defensively. “Just asking,” he said.

He watched hesitantly as Quatre seemed to back off a little. Watching the guy overreact to such a logical question was surprising. It certainly wasn’t like him. Duo couldn't help but wonder if there was some deeper issue here. Reactions like that don’t come out of nowhere, especially when you’re as mild mannered as the Winner heir typically was.

“I don’t understand why it’s even a big deal,” Quatre said in exasperation. “No, we haven’t talked about it. It’s not like I’m in the closet either. It’s just never come up.”

“Alright. I get it,” Duo replied, putting another hand up to slow the guy down. “So you don’t think he’ll care?” he asked.

Quatre’s eyes softened, even as his posture remained taught. “No,” he said emphatically, but softly.

“But Trowa thinks he will?”

“He didn’t say one way or the other, but the implication was there.”

“Can you blame the guy,” he asked, pressing his elbows onto his knees and leaning in towards Quatre. “He doesn’t know him like you do and do you honestly think that the idea of him having to explain your guys’ relationship to someone like Rashid doesn’t scare the shit out of him?”

Quatre blinked. “What do you mean?”

Duo sighed. For someone typically so perceptive, he really was slow on the uptake. “How many relationships do you think the guy’s had in which he’s met family members?”

A look of understanding started to cross his face. “None,” he said quietly.

“How many times do you think he’s been in a position where he might have to fight for a relationship?”

And there came the ‘oh shit’ look.

“Rashid’s an intimidating dude, Quatre. I know all your Maguanac buddies are Muslim. Trowa probably does too. I know they’re pretty chill guys, but to be completely fair, that religion is harder than most toward anyone who isn’t straight.”

“I screwed up,” he whispered. Duo didn’t say anything. The pained look on Quatre’s face as he stared at his hands pulled at his heart.

“You overreacted. It happens to everyone, so try not to beat yourself up too much about it,” he said, dipping his head in an attempt to get back into Quatre’s vision. “Finish your code, pass it off to the engineers, and go find him. Apologize, then kiss and make up.”

Quatre’s blue eyes peaked out from behind his blonde bangs. But…” he started to say.

Duo shrugged offhandedly and leaned back. “Dude, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that you’d be protective of Rashid. The guy’s solid and he’s always had your back. You guys just came from different directions and forgot to meet in the middle.”

A hint of a smile graced Quatre’s lips. “When did you become such a wellspring of wisdom?”

“It’s just one of my many charms,” he replied airily with a dramatic flip of his hair.

Quatre rested his face on a hand. “You really are something else,” he said sarcastically. “Does anyone tell you that?”

Duo popped off the bed and walked towards the door, hands tucked behind his head. “Everyday, buddy boy!” He smiled as he left Quatre’s room.

Crisis averted.

________________________________________________________________

Trowa leaned against one of the many glass windows of the Axiom’s concourse. As the highest point of the ship, the position would have given Trowa an excellent view of the landscape as they traveled East if not for the darkness of the night. They were in the middle of nowhere. No lights from cities or towns and the cloudy night sky offered no light from the moon or stars. They were expecting to run into another battle with the Eurussian reinforcements in a few hours and the time for relaxation was almost over.

Like the other Gundam Pilots he had taken a nap after their last encounter, though his was disappointedly short. The argument with Quatre nagged at him, but the guy had been so focused on his work when he finally left his room that Trowa opted to leave him alone and make his way to the top of the concourse instead. Despite the many soldiers who were hanging around, no one bothered him. That suited him just fine.

Heero walked up and, facing him, leaned his shoulder against the window. Well, almost no one bothered him.

“You guys had a fight.” There was no question there and the answer seemed fairly obvious. Trowa said nothing, just continued looking out the window, hands in his pockets. He usually enjoyed Heero’s quiet company. At the moment he just wanted to be left alone. His unwelcome visitor made no move to leave.

“The Maguanacs will be with us in a day or two,” he said eventually, breaking the silence.

“Duo told me.”

He finally looked at Heero. “I'm concerned.”

Heero shrugged. “Quatre can take care of himself. Trust him.”

He looked back out across the blackened landscape. It wasn’t Quatre he worried about. Maybe he was overreacting. He hoped he was. Aside from the whole almost self detonating Heavyarms that one time, he wasn’t prone to doing so.

“We’ll be rolling out soon,” Heero said as he turned and started walking away. “Go find him. Duo said he should be almost done with the code he was writing. Just keep your head in the game.” Of course, he’d say something about them, starting whatever he and Quatre were getting themselves into during a mission. Trowa looked back out the window and let his mind wander for a while longer.

His cell phone buzzing in his pocket brought his attention back to focus. It was Cathy. He hadn’t talked to her since they’d left. He hit the answer button as he pushed off the wall and started walking. “Hey, Cathy.”

They talked for several minutes as he made his way down to the docking bay. He couldn’t tell her much about what they were doing or how soon they would be in battle again, but she didn’t press either. So they talked about the circus. They’d moved on to another city and were on their way towards France. The lion was sulking, the elephant had an upper respiratory infection the vet was treating, and the new high wire performer they’d hired a month ago just quit.

“I leave for three days and everything falls apart,” he deadpanned. He stopped just outside of the docking area. The noise was bearable just outside, but going in further while on the phone would be pointless. Cathy teased him about actually making a joke.

He peeked into the large room as Cathy chatted in his ear. Unsurprisingly he saw Quatre working with the team still laboring on his new Taurus. Sitting on the open hatch door, holding a laptop attached to the inner suit consols, he was apparently running some sort of diagnostics. Still in his button-up and vest, but his sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows. He’d obviously been tinkering around with something.

Most likely his new program. Trowa had to admit, even for one of them, churning out a workable code on this scale in less than 24 hours was impressive. He looked good doing it too.

“Trowa?” Cathy’s voice rang in his ear.

“What?” he asked, startled out of his thoughts. He leaned against the corner of the entryway and focused back onto their conversation. He stared at the ground to keep his mind from wandering. His adoptive sister’s slightly irritated voice let him know that she had probably called his name more than once.

“What took your attention?” she asked with mild curiosity. “Or is it a who?” Now that question sounded pointed.

“What do you mean?” he asked, glancing back over at Quatre. He was talking with one of the engineers about something. He glanced back to the floor. Cathy’s dislike of Quatre had faded a bit since the war and she tolerated his continued friendship with the blonde, but she still hadn’t forgiven the guy for past transgressions.

An exasperated sigh filtered through the phone. “I swear. All you guys are so dense. You never stop listening to me unless he’s involved.” That was most definitely pointed.

“Cathy…” he started to say. He was not about to have this conversation over the phone.

“You always were stubborn.” He could faintly hear the manager saying something in the background. “I have to go Trowa. We all miss you around here. Stay safe, alright?”

“Sure thing, Cathy,” he replied sedately as the phone clicked off. Well that was awkward. He hadn’t quite expected the conversation to end like that. He sighed. Not much he could do about it for the moment. He tucked his phone away and casually strolled into the docking bay, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Quatre noticed him as he walked up. The look on his face was hesitant and careful. He didn’t even attempt a smile when he said “Hey”. His voice though, didn’t waver, contrasting against the tenseness Trowa saw in his rigid back.

“Hey,” he replied, stopping just in front of the open humanoid machine.

“That Cathy on the phone?” Quatre asked casually. He looked away from Trowa, collecting some cables before shutting his laptop. “She’s good for you, you know that? I don’t think I’ve said that before, but she is.”

“She would agree with you,” he replied. “Was it that obvious?”

Quatre gave him an amused are-you-serious look. “Who else would you be on the phone with? Everyone else is here.” Trowa had to give him that one. He watched with a small smile as Quatre hopped down from the open hatch and came within inches of him. They were close enough that Quatre had to look up for their eyes to meet.

“You think I’m different?” he asked as he stared down at Quatre curiously. Quatre tipped his head to the side thoughtfully.

“In some things, yes. Not so much in others.”

Trowa pondered that for a moment before tearing his gaze from Quatre’s attractive face to look at his suit. The mechanics were adjusting the scimitar holsters. The suit should have been ready by now with only Quatre’s system update to be installed. “Your suit’s not ready, yet?” he asked in concern.

Quatre half-turned to face his suit. “Apparently not. They were testing its functions before they gave it the final green light. Apparently, something is keeping the weapons from unholstering. The code I wrote was successfully installed in all the modified Taurus suits, though, so hopefully, they can fix this before the next battle.”

Just then the PA system switched on. "Paradise Unit to the docking bay. Paradise Unit to the docking bay.”

“Or maybe not,” he said mildly as Quatre closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and groaned in frustration. They were standing so close to each other and it was so very tempting to close the gap and plant a trail of kisses all the way from that delicate collarbone, up the side of his neck, down his jawline, until he found his way to Quatre’s sweet mouth. It took every ounce of control he had to keep himself firmly planted where he was and his hands to himself.

“You’re going to have to catch up, Quatre.” His voice was soft and smooth, even to his own ears.

Quatre snapped his head back and stared at Trowa with a surprised expression and there was that lovely blush of his again. He chuckled. Even a line like that made him blush.

They continued to stare at each other as the rest of the group made their way into the hangar. It was Duo’s voice that broke the tension. “Looks like you’re out again, Quatre buddy.”

“You don’t have to dangle it over me."

“What’s up with your suit anyway? I thought it was done.”

“Mechanical issues,” Quatre responded dejectedly. “Didn’t pass final pre-fight tests.”

“If you hadn’t written that code so fast, I might have called you a slacker,” Wufei teased as he reached his suit. Quatre looked as if he were about to say something, then decided against it. He didn’t join in the good-natured teasing, but Trowa caught the slight smirk on Heero’s face as he passed them on the way to his own suit.

“Whelp,” Duo said, giving Quatre a friendly slap on the chest. “Next time, buddy.”

Duo shoved off and entered his own cockpit, leaving the two of them standing alone. They stood there for a brief moment. Their silence spoke volumes. Everything they couldn’t say, but wanted to seemed to pass between them in mute understanding.

Quatre’s eyes held less apprehension than the last time he’d been left behind. Certainly knowing that his code had been installed, giving them a potential advantage, assuming it worked, if the Monstrosity showed up in this fight provided some reassurances. But they all knew that any battle, no matter how easy it might seem, could suddenly go wrong in the most unexpected way.

He gave Quatre a light slap on the arm, very similar to Duo’s gesture, before walking past him towards his own suit. “Join us if you can.” From his cockpit he watched Quatre lean against the platform railing, laptop under one arm and cables draped over the crook of his elbow.

“Pay attention,” he called out to the four of them. “If that suit shows up you’ll see the outline in bright blue. It should work, but you’re essentially live beta testers, so don’t blindly trust the system to catch it. There won’t be any heat haze this time, so keep a watchful eye out.” From the corner of his eye he saw Duo post a salute before closing his cockpit door. He locked eyes with Quatre once more, gave a small reassuring smile before closing his own.

Quatre disappeared from view, replaced by the cold metal interior of his mobile suit. His navigation, visuals, and audio blinked to life. His heart rate ticked up a notch as it always did before a battle. He’d gotten used to peace, enjoyed it. But there was something unmistakingly thrilling about going into battle.

The large hangar bay doors opened and, along with the others, he flew off into the night.  
________________________________________________________________

After putting away the equipment he had been using Quatre walked back to the ship’s bridge. The energy in the air was electrifying. Despite the solid victories the Preventer forces were coming out of, the fact remained that they were outnumbered by the Eurussian forces. Superior tactical skill and a great deal of luck had gotten them this far, but now they were on their third battle in less than two days.

Everyone was exhausted. Even Quatre had thrown back a few shots of espresso to keep him going.

And this battle was going to be critical. After two intense battles, the Preventer forces were facing supply shortages compared to the, so far untested, Eurussian relief troops headed their way. A supply shipment was due tomorrow morning, but that wouldn’t help them before he next round of fighting started.

Thankfully they had been able to confiscate a fair number of armaments the Eurussians hadn’t used yet from the base. Select forward teams had placed numerous IED’s in the enemy’s path and a few individuals were positioned with surface to air missiles. The plan was for these surprise attacks to cause enough damage and confusion for the main forces to finish off the Eurussians while taking as little damage as possible.

Quatre walked up to Sally Po, next to the same tactical officer as last time. Silently, she gave him an ear piece which he put on. Immediately he could hear the other Gundam Pilots discussing the impending battle as they moved into position. Once they were in position they’d have to hunker down and wait until the enemy was moving past them and in range of the ground artillery before they made their move.

It would be risky and Quatre was worried about the visibility of that new suit in the dark, with or without its invisibility capabilities. He kept those concerns to himself though. Everyone would be acutely aware of the danger that suit represented. His hands itched. He wanted that suit. Wanted to see how it did what it did, how it was built, what it was built with, its internal systems.

His mind buzzed with the possibilities. He’d played with the idea of building an entrapment energy field similar to the defense shield used by the Mercurius. Unfortunately they didn’t have the time nor the capabilities to produce such a thing. Defeating it in battle, which had already proved to be difficult, was going to be the only way they were going to get their hands on it.

Sally Po studied him for a moment. “You look like a cat watching a mouse,” she said with a hint of amusement. He looked back at her and smiled slightly. He didn’t doubt her one bit.

“I want that suit.”

Sally looked back to the screens. “You and the engineering department. They’re itching to get their hands on it.” Quatre nodded as he looked back to the screens as well. They’d been lucky so far, but they were going to have to do better than that if they wanted to keep winning these battles.

Quatre looked at his friends’ position. They appeared to be where they were supposed to hunker down. He tapped his earpiece. “You guys settled?” he asked.

“Hey Quatre! Joining us from the peanut gallery again?” Duo teased. Quatre smiled, but didn’t take the bait.

“Everyone’s in position,” Heero affirmed.

“Alright. We don’t see any indications of the Eurussians from up here, so just sit tight and keep an eye out,” Quatre told them. Several affirmations responded and all that was left to do was wait.

________________________________________________________________

The subsequent hours were excruciating. The heavy silence covered the entire unit. Too concerned that casual chitchat could get picked up by the enemy, everyone had remained silent. As time dragged along, Trowa’s thoughts had drifted to Quatre.

Neither of them had mentioned it and Quatre _had_ complimented Cathy, but they both knew Cathy was not particularly fond of Quatre. It didn’t help that Quatre was self-deprecating enough to side against himself on that score. While Trowa’s concern was over Rashid’s unknown response to Quatre’s sexuality, he had to admit that he honestly didn’t know how Cathy would react to the news that he was starting a romantic relationship with a person she blames for endangering him.

As much as he’d like the two to get along (and Quatre seemed rather amenable) if she really had a problem, his adoptive sister could suck it up and deal with it for all he cared. But he also had to admit he felt like a hypocrite for calling Rashid into question when Cathy might not be much better. The two situations were different yet the same.

Quatre’s reaction might have been a bit much, but he hadn’t been completely out of line on calling him out. Trowa sighed to himself within the dark confines of his mobile suit. They really needed to talk when he got back.

The sudden illumination of his cockpit as the system came to life pulled him from his thoughts. A high pitched beeping and multiple points on his radar signaled the first wave of incoming enemy forces. “They’re here,” Duo’s voice come through his communication system.

“Guys.” Quatre’s voice. Sharp. Alert. Trowa could imagine Quatre’s eyes scanning the battlefield, calculating optimal moves and counterpoints. The guy was a top caliber pilot, but he was equally adept in leading from afar. Quatre’s voice in his ear gave him, even more, confidence that, despite the numbers and the lack of Gundams, they’d succeed here.

“We see them, Quatre,” he responded, eyes locked on his own radar screen.

“Remember not to engage unless I give the word...or you get made.”

“Copy that.” Trowa’s body tensed, ready to act as soon as necessary.

The rocky foothills of the area provided them with enough physical cover to go unnoticed as the Eurussian forces traveled right past them. The radar jamming system the Axiom was broadcasting hid their non-physical signatures. It almost felt counter intuitive to let so many enemies move past him, despite the guerrilla tactics they were implementing this round.

The end of the line was coming into view. The Eurussian front line was almost within distance of the small contingent of main Preventer troops that would serve as the Eurussian’s focal point. The majority of their troops had been divided into even smaller four to five tactical teams that were hunkered down just like himself and the other Gundam Pilots. All of these smaller hit ‘n run teams, dubbed HNR teams, were under orders to be quick and efficient in a get in and get out strategy.

Trowa’s fingers twitched on the controls. The end of the line was almost through. His body buzzed with so much energy and adrenaline he almost couldn’t contain himself. Come on, come on, come on.

“Engage!”

_Yes! Finally._

Almost simultaneously the four modified Taurus suits launched from their positions and met their targets. The area around him lit up as the battle began. Two quick shots and his first target was down. One more destroyed another. The other pilots handled their own counterparts just as effectively.

As a group, they moved off. Guided by Quatre when necessary, they wove their way through the Eurussian forces. Occasionally some small clusters of Eurussians would find a defensible position, causing a more protracted exchange of fire. The smaller ground artillery was helpful in these cases. They hit hard enough to concern the Eurussians and gave both the Gundam pilots and other Preventer soldiers the cover necessary to find another angle to exploit.

Trowa clipped another two suits, sending them stumbling backward before falling down, immobile. He checked his supply info. Still, plenty ammunitions left. Neither Heavyarms nor this suit had been designed for this type of precision work, but their tactics were working. About half the Eurussian forces in this contingent were out of commission. No sign yet of the Monstrosity, despite their wary eyes and the knowledge that they had a system to “see” it with.

Whenever Quatre’s voice came over his system confirming the absence of that suit on the field, Trowa heard the tight concern in his voice. They’d all expected the suit to be in play. The fact that it wasn’t concerned him and Quatre as well by the sound of it.

______________________________________________________________

Quatre watched the monitors as the battle advanced and receded. A hand casually resting in the pocket of his slacks belied the constricting weight of nervousness that tightened his stomach. Something wasn’t quite right. He could feel it just as he could feel Sally Po standing a few feet away.

He just couldn’t see it yet.

His eyes darted back and forth across the screens in front of him. There had to be something he was missing. Despite the advantage, they were pressing against the Eurussians, the hair stood up on the back of his neck and a sense of dread refused to let go. He could literally _feel_ the danger inching closer. He _had_ to find it.

Several minutes passed.

 _Wait_ , he thought. _This doesn’t make sense._ He looked up at the large screen that depicted the overall troop movements. The Eurussians were letting them off too easy. There it was, plain as day. An advance here and a retreat there. Their enemy was leading them forward. If it had been a snake...

Quatre’s eyes widened in realization. It was a trap. The Preventers were heading for a potentially devastating defeat. He hit the unmute button on his earpiece. “Guys, get out of there!” He put as much force in the command as possible. From the corner of his eye, he saw both Captain Carlisle and Lady Une whip their heads in his direction. He could hear the confused questions of his friends filter through his ear.

“Cancel that order,” the Captain shouted. Quatre heard the overruling echo in his ear. He’d heard it come back to him through his friends’ systems.

He stared back defiantly. “Retreat! Now!”

“What the hell are you doing, Gundam Pilot?” Captain Carlisle demanded, standing up from his chair. The look on his face was a mixture of incredulity and ire. The officers on the bridge were staring at them in shock. A few even moved within tackling range of him.

“I’d ask you the same thing,” he shot back at the man. “You need to call a full retreat. Now.” He didn’t understand why he hadn’t. Couldn’t he see what was happening?

One of the information officers called out. “Paradise Unit is retreating, sir.” Quatre breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least they were coming back.

“We have the advantage and the momentum,” Lady Une interrupted. Her voice matched her expression. Confused and concerned. Seriously, could no one else see what was going on? Their troops didn’t have time for this.

“You have five moves, Captain, before we lose a third of those guys out there. We’re walking right into a trap,” he replied, pointing to the large tactical screen. His voice carried throughout the room with the depth of conviction and authority. Captain Carlisle and Lady Une both stared at him, unsure what to believe.

“Lady Une,” Sally said, joining the conversation. “For what it’s worth, Quatre was the one who defeated Zechs and Dorothy Catalonia’s mobile doll strategy system.” The reference to the mobile doll tactical coordination system used to manually control large units of mobile dolls in real-time battle conditions seemed to carry weight as the Captain and Lady Une looked at him.

Quatre threw a quick glance at the big screens, judging how much time they had left before once again meeting the eyes of the two highest ranking officers within Preventer. “Now you have four.”

“Show me.”

Quatre almost lost it. They were wasting time! With an irritated huff, he asked someone to put the last fifteen minutes upon one of the large screens. A moment later a time lapsed video began playing. “Look. Here, here, and here,” he said in exasperation, pointing out specific areas on the map. “They could have pushed us back, but they didn’t. They didn’t even put up a hard fight.” He pointed to another position on the screen. “Then they retreat all the way back there.”

He looked back at the Captain and Lady Une. “There’s no other reason for these types of movements unless they’re trying to lead us somewhere. Go back later and look through the last hour or so of battle, you’ll see other movements like this too, I can guarantee it. You need to pull our guys, now.”

The Captain’s features had become unreadable while Lady Une continued to study the time lapsed video feed. Quatre could hear the blood pounding in his ears. God help the souls of all those soldiers if they didn’t listen.

It was Lady Une who made the call. “Do it,” she said, looking at the Captain.

“All troops, full retreat,” Captain Carlisle bellered, still eyeing him. The bridge buzzed with electricity as officers echoed his orders.

Quatre looked back to the screens. All units were making coordinated and secure retreats. After a certain point, the Eurussians stopped chasing them and began to move away from the battlefield as well. Yep, they’d definitely wanted to entice them into pressing their attack.

It had been a trap, certainly. Quatre put has hands on his hips. He just wasn’t sure of what that trap was. Surface to air missiles maybe or IED’s like they had used, maybe? They’d have to take the time to inspect the area before moving on. Who knew how long that would take. A day? Maybe two?

He felt a shadow fall over him. He looked over and came face to face with the Captain’s uniform. Having several inches on him, Quatre was forced to look up to meet his eyes. Suddenly he felt once again like a fifteen-year-old disobeying his father. But Father was dead and he’d been right.

“How did you see that?” the Captain asked in a low voice.

“I honestly don’t know how you didn’t,” he countered. The heat had left his voice. Their soldiers were returning and would live to fight another day. Tomorrow they’ll figure out what the Eurussians were up to.

Lady Une walked over. “The four of us in the conference room. Now,” she said before turning and led the way. The Captain barked some order at his second-in-command to take over. Quatre and Sally shared a look of apprehension before bringing up the rear. Neither knew what to expect.

________________________________________________________________

Trowa and the others had been making solid headway against their respective targets when the Quatre’s sudden order to retreat had come through. Wufei and Duo had both questioned the call, but instead of an explanation, they had heard the Captain’s furious order to ignore their friend. He had seen the shocked expression on the other’s expressions in his vid-com feed when Quatre had repeated his order. He was sure their faces mirrored his own. Something must have been terribly wrong for him to ignore the Captain.

For a moment they hadn’t been sure what to do, but if Quatre was calling them back, Trowa was going back. He trusted Quatre’s judgment completely. Without another word, the four of them had disengaged and executed a strategic retreat.

“Did Quatre just…?” Duo had asked incredulously. He’d been so shocked he hadn’t even been able to finish the sentence.

Right after he had heard Quatre call the Captain out for not calling a retreat his communication line had gone silent. When it had come back a stranger’s voice was talking in his ear. Another tactical officer had taken control of their unit and ordered them back to their previous positions.

Heero had responded that they were trusting Quatre’s judgment and were retreating as ordered by their unit leader. Trowa’s heart had leaped then. He wasn’t sure he’d really expected anything else from his friend, but in that moment, the show of support for Quatre meant the world to him.

A feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach though as they made their way back to the ship. Quatre still hadn’t come back on the line. Being taken off the line and having his unit given to another officer was deeply concerning. Considering their current state of war, Quatre could be arrested for disobeying orders. His status as a Gundam pilot would only give him as much latitude as Lady Une and the Captain was willing to give him.

Several moments later the same officer once again came across their line, saying they were to continue retreating with the rest of the troops in a coordinated manner. Apparently, Quatre had won out, but no explanation was given.

Interestingly, the Eurussians didn’t chase them all that much as they pulled back and still no sign of the Monstrosity suit. Trowa wondered what Castonev was up to. What a strange way to end a battle. Neither side had taken the ground they had just fought over. It didn’t make much sense.

It took over an hour to retreat safely. After they’d docked, Trowa looked over at Quatre’s suit as he exited his cockpit. The engineers seemed to no longer be working on the scimitar pack but were instead running diagnostics. Hopefully, they’d fixed whatever had gone wrong. Hopefully, Quatre wasn’t in trouble.


	14. Chapter 14

The room was dark and quiet when Quatre woke up. He blinked his eyes slowly as everything came into focus and his brain caught up with his vision. The blank wall came into view. He sighed. He’d almost forgotten where he was and what he was doing in this place.

He remembered dragging himself to bed last night, or early this morning before the others had even docked. After following Lady Une and the Captain to the conference room they had made him go over how he had noticed the Eurussian’s movements. Eventually, they had noticed what he had seen the first time. Then they walked through the scenario if the retreat hadn’t been called step by step. Captain Carlisle had then ordered a drone sweep of the area to check for anything they might have missed the first time. They expected it to take at least a day to cover the entire battleground.

All that on top of his day-long coding session yesterday. And the Monstrosity hadn’t even shown up. Better safe than sorry, though. He’d thought the same last night, even if it had been a bit of a disappointment. The absence of that suit was conspicuous and fed the rumors that something was wrong with it.

After the day’s excitement, he’d been so beyond tired to the point where he hadn’t even had the energy to change last night.

Slowly, he sat up, being in no hurry to get up and around… Until he looked at the clock. 5:46 p.m. _Seriously?!_ In a panic, he looked at his wristwatch. Sure enough. He also had 5:46. Throwing the covers aside, he pushed himself out of bed, despite his body begging to curl back up under the warm blankets. He shed his clothes from the other day into the hamper, set the watch aside, and got in the shower, turning the stream from the showerhead to the colder side of lukewarm.

It wasn’t until he was almost done with his shower until he realized he had nowhere to be. They wouldn’t have another briefing for another fourteen hours or so and his mobile suit may or may not still be experiencing its own set of issues. Even if it was finished, as much as he would like to test it just to be sure, there wasn’t a rush on it like yesterday. The drone sweep was undoubtedly still happening too.

Quatre turned up the heat. If he had time, he might as well take advantage of it. The chilly water had woken him up, but his bruised muscles could really use the warmth. He had never iced them like he’d intended and his sides were stiff and sore. He rested his head against the now steamy shower wall. He could feel his tender muscles begin to loosen and stretch.

It already seemed like ages ago that he’d gotten wrecked by that killer suit when it had really only been, what, two days? Preventer would be coming up to the Chinese border soon. And Rashid and the Maguanacs were going to join up with them sometime tomorrow. Ideally, Quatre would wait to make a move against the Eurussians until the Maguanac Corp was fully armed. It was the smart play.

His stomach sank at the realization that Rashid didn’t know about his encounter with the Eurussian’s new mobile suit. He hadn’t told him about it on the phone. He was bound to get a lecture when he found out.

That train of thought led him down another road. One that included Trowa. He was going to have to resolve that pesky detail. Honestly, he didn’t expect any issues. He understood the conflict Trowa was expecting, but he knew Rashid. The man saw shades of gray where his religious text might see black and white.

He sighed again as he turned off the water and exited the shower. _Two days in and such drama_ , he thought as he carefully stretched his back, testing his body. The damaged muscles only slightly protested. Better than yesterday.

And then Trowa had gotten a call from Cathy. Of course, Trowa’s self-proclaimed sister would worry and check in on him and Quatre had been right, she was good for the broody pilot. He hadn’t said anything, but he did see the double standard Trowa had laid down. The contrite look Trowa had given him said he’d realized it too, so at least there was that.

The difference was small. Cathy had every right to hate the guy who had almost killed her adopted brother. Rashid had no such reason to dislike Trowa. He figured that would make talking with Rashid about it easier. When he boiled it down, Quatre trusted that his confidante wouldn’t take issue with his budding relationship, but he had to admit, Trowa’s anxiety had rubbed off on him a bit. As a result, he felt jittery and uncomfortable at the idea of talking romantic relationships with someone who was like a second father to him.

Quatre chased those thoughts away as he got dressed. It was past six and time to find the others and get some food in his stomach.

_______________________________________________________________

“Morning Sunshine!” Duo called from the other side of the table, waving a hand in the air as he did so. Trowa half turned, looking behind him. Sure enough, there was Quatre, still looking tired though certainly better rested than before, walking towards their table in the mess hall.

Unsurprisingly, he wore another fitted button-down and vest. The midnight blue shirt made his eyes seem darker today and his vest, fawn colored in the front, russet brown in the back accented the look perfectly. His hands rested casually in the pockets of his jeans. And damn, those were fitted too.

He had to remind himself to breathe as he watched the blonde haired, blue eyed bombshell. Damn the guy looked all the world like a model. From the way, he walked to that sinfully contented smile underneath those big, drowsy eyes. The jeans were a deviation, though. Quatre was definitely more relaxed today if he was wearing jeans. Certainly seemed like it. The tenseness in his body seemed to have diminished since yesterday.

“Evening,” Quatre corrected their friend. His eyes sparkled in amusement at Duo’s tease and the use of his aptly given code name. “Sorry I slept so much.”

“You needed it. You had us worried, considering what happened last night,” Heero replied sedately. The air around the table suddenly felt very heavy to Trowa. The serious expressions on everyone’s faces suggested they had also felt the change.

“Sally Po had to come down and tell us you weren’t in too much trouble since you guys were still holed up in a meeting when we got in,” Duo added.

It was true. After docking they had all gathered together, looking for news on Quatre. Sally had found them and told them that he was still in a meeting with both Captain Carlisle and Lady Une. Not a single one of them had been able to stay up long enough to meet him when he came back.

Quatre’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Everything's fine,” he reassured them.

“After they cut you off the communications system, we half expected them to lock you up for insubordination,” Wufei said with a grin. “How’d you get out of that?” Quatre shrugged.

“Lady Une let me off the hook. Apparently being right canceled out the disruption.”

“You got lucky.”

“I know,” Quatre admitted.

“How’d the Captain take it?” Duo asked.

“He doesn’t like me much.”

That garnered a laugh from both Duo and Wufei. Trowa grinned at Quatre’s good humor.

“Feeling rested?” Trowa asked. From his seat, he was actually forced to look up into Quatre’s eyes. The smile he got was genuine.

“Much, actually. Thanks.”

“By the way,” Wufei said from across the table. “Your suit is finally ready to go.” Meaning Quatre’s previously sidelined Taurus. And just like that the dark mood that had visited them lifted.

Quatre’s eyes visibly brightened in excitement. “Fantastic,” he said before turning on his heel and started making his way towards the exit. Trowa was quick to jump out of his seat and grab the crook of Quatre’s elbow. The move garnered him a confused look from the blonde while in the background Duo chided Quatre about being a workaholic.

“The suit can wait,” Trowa told him. “Get some food first. When was the last time you ate?” On cue, Quatre’s stomach growled in betrayal. He gave his friend a pointed look before the guy acquiesced, allowing Trowa to pull him through the cafeteria.

Their meal passed by pleasantly enough after that. Quatre was successfully distracted from thinking about his mobile suit by Wufei’s queries into Quatre’s choice of universities and weighing the options between Stanford and MIT. The conversation was punctuated by frequent playful banter between the young businessman and Duo.

Eventually, they went their separate ways with Trowa joining Quatre in checking on his mobile suit. They walked together silently, simply enjoying each other’s company. Quatre’s small, contented smile never diminished as they made their way down to the engineering bay.

One of the main engineers smiled and waved them over after noticing them walking towards him. He watched with casual interest as the engineer brought Quatre what looked like an intact piece of equipment. Quatre unbuttoned his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves before taking the offered item, carefully looking it over. Something must have been wrong with it because the engineer pointed from the part to a computer diagram of Quatre’s scimitar pack.

Trowa leaned his hip against the railing and crossed his arms, content to watch from a distance and enjoy the view. It was moments like this where he was struck by just how much Quatre had grown up in the two years since they’d met. Trowa was willing to admit to himself that he’d thought Quatre rather cute in an innocent, idealistic, and perhaps even a little bit naive way in the beginning. He’d been baby-faced and adorable.

Now he was downright stunning.

Trowa let his eyes wander. That fitted button-down clung to Quatre’s torso in all the right places. And as much of a pain as he knew it would be to pry the guy out of that vest, it drew attention to his flat abs. The fabric hugged his shoulders in a most delicious way and when he moved just right, pulled suggestively where that deep blue disappeared under the lip of those jeans. He appreciated the effect.

Those rolled up sleeves showed off forearms that had a fair bit of definition to them. It was subtle but just enough to be enticing. Quatre obviously did some type of weight training for that. He smiled. Quatre might care about his physique more than he let on.

Quatre and the engineer talked for several minutes, motioning between the Taurus, the diagram, and the part in Quatre’s hand. Occasionally Trowa would catch a few words or bits of a sentence. The conversation was highly technical and though that didn’t surprise him necessarily, Quatre was a Gundam pilot after all and every one of them knew how to take care of their suit without the help of a crew, the extent of Quatre’s fascination with the engineer’s work did.

When they had first met and Quatre called a truce between them, the little blonde had the Maguanacs repair and resupply Trowa’s Gundam Heavyarms, as they had with Quatre’s own Sandrock. Trowa had never been overly fond of other people messing with his suit, but for some inexplicable reason, he’d trusted Quatre and Rashid’s team hadn’t disappointed. The only other time they had fought together over any length of time had been aboard Peacemillion and again, Quatre’s suit, like all the Gundams, had been repaired by Howard’s team of engineers.

Trowa couldn’t remember an instant where he’d witnessed Quatre physically working on his own suit and yet, there he was, engaged in a highly technical conversation with one of the lead engineers and matching the guy step for step.

From his obvious upbringing, the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, the way he acted, and even his personality, Trowa could see the future businessman Quatre was being groomed to be. He’d certainly be good at it too, but Trowa had never imagined the guy as a hands-on mechanic-type.

The realization that they really didn’t know each other that well slowly settled over him as he considered the young man in front of him.

Quatre and the engineer both looked up to the mobile suit, sharing some final words before Quatre handed back the part and left the man to his work. Quatre’s smile was infectious as he returned to Trowa’s side. “Guy’s pretty clever,” he said as he threw one last look at the Taurus over his shoulder, unrolling his sleeves, and fixing his cufflinks.

“That part warped and they didn’t have a spare. The schematics on file don’t match the sword attachments, so they created their own workaround. Took them a while to get it right, but it’s solid and ready to go.”

“You surprise me,” he said quietly, looking down into Quatre’s smiling face. The blonde tilted his head slightly in consideration of those words. He tucked his hands back into his pockets. His eyes shone with a mixture of amusement and understanding.

“Do I?” Quatre asked, his voice warm and slow, like raw honey pouring out of a mason jar. The sound sent a shiver down his spine. That tone was not one for regular conversation. Trowa pulled in a breath. For some reason he felt like he was about to jump off the deep end.

“It occurs to me that we don’t really know each other.”

Quatre stared at him silently for several heartbeats. That devilish smile never diminished, like he knew something Trowa didn’t. He wasn’t the self-conscious type, but under Quatre’s scrutiny, he resisted the urge to fidget.

“Maybe not the specifics,” Quatre conceded, sounding not the least bit perturbed by the thought. “But we all know the core of each other. That’s always been enough to work together and be friends.”

He didn’t have a response to that. It was true enough. Aside from Duo and Quatre, who had developed a deep friendship and kept in close contact, none of them had spent a whole lot of time with each other learning the things normal friends would know.

“Come on,” Quatre said as he started walking away. “Let’s leave these guys to their work. We don’t need to be in the way.” That sweet voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Within a few strides, he was beside Quatre again.

They left the docking bay and walked down the hallway. “I didn’t expect you to be so mechanically inclined,” he said casually. Quatre looked up at Trowa with a slightly confused expression.

“I’m a Gundam pilot like the rest of you. I know how to take care of my mobile suit.” The sound of his voice carried a slightly defensive tone to it.

“I know,” he replied. “I just never really saw you work on it.” He winced on the inside. That really didn’t sound much better. Quatre huffed.

“Did you think me that spoiled?”

 _Well shit. Not where he wanted to go with that._ “No,” he replied evenly. “Whenever we were together you had a support team. It would be foolish not to take advantage of that. Back there was just the first time I’ve seen you get involved in the mechanics.” Quatre turned toward him, opening his mouth to say something and Trowa half turned to him while they walked. “And the coding don’t count. Coding is software, not physical mechanics.”

Quatre snapped his mouth shut and faced forward again as they made their way along. “Fair enough,” he said with a shrug. “I like to tinker with things. Rashid and I work on the cars ourselves when we can. We’re even starting our own R&D department at WEI.”

That surprised him a little. WEI was known as a high yield space mining and construction company, but tech R&D was another beast entirely. “Why the expansion?” Quatre looked up at him and smiled again.

“We’re a socially and economically responsible company, but looking years down the road I know we can do more than we already are. We have the resources and the tools to solve problems. So why not solve them?”

Trowa smiled. Classic Quatre. Looking to solve the world’s problems. “Sounds like an elevator pitch,” he said with a teasing edge. Quatre laughed.

“It was.” He shrugged again. “I like to fix things.” Trowa had a pretty good idea on what Quatre could fix and it was nothing mechanical. Thankfully they were close to their rooms. Another turn and they’d be there. Quatre paused in the hallway and looked him in the eyes. His smile had been replaced with a serious expression. “I’m in a unique position, Trowa and I know that. Government and business shape the world and I’m going to use mine to make it better.”

They stood there, staring at each other for several moments in silence. He knew that look in Quatre’s eyes. The guy was dead serious. He had literally been a part of an elite group of individuals who had helped gain equality for the people on the space colonies, stopped a war, saved the Earth from getting irreparably damaged via major impact, and put down an insurrection started by a nine-year-old.

After all that and now this fiasco, Quatre still wanted to do more. Despite everything he had gone through, he was as idealistic as ever. Tempered by reality and prudence maybe, but still idealistic. Trowa loved that about him. It made his heart swell, as well as his dick, and he became keenly aware of how very alone they were in this instant.

Quatre stepped toward him and a moment later he was in his arms, their bodies pressed against each other and their kisses needy. Quatre reached up, threading his fingers through the short hair on the back of his head and pulled him in for a deeper kiss. His body tingled from his head to his toes at Quatre’s hand playing in his hair.

Trowa’s hand slid downward until he was cupping Quatre’s ass while his other gently caressed his face. Rolling his hips, the hard length of his dick rubbed against Quatre’s own hardening member. Quatre’s moan against his lips was guttural and filled with desire.

He broke their kiss and stared down into Quatre’s upturned face. His blue eyes were unfocused and half closed. “Quatre…” he started to say, his voice thick and tight with arousal, much like the bulge in his pants.

Duo’s raised voice from around the corner pierced the silence. Both Quatre and Trowa’s eyes immediately refocused as they turned their heads in the direction of the sound and stepped away from each other. A moment later Duo and Heero turned down their hallway and began walking towards them.

“Hey, guys!” Duo called excitedly. Trowa casually put his hands in his pockets and waited quietly as their two teammates walked up. A quick glance in Quatre’s direction showed that Quatre had also put on an amiable face. If he hadn’t known better, he wouldn't have guessed the guy had just been moaning into another guy’s mouth. Seemed Quatre had a bit of a poker face.

“We’re about to go play some volleyball against the engineering guys if you want to come. Wufei’s boring and turned us down.”

Trowa gave Duo a small smile, but it was Quatre who answered first. “You know I’m not a sports person, Duo.” The long-haired pilot put an arm around Heero’s shoulders and leaned in Quatre’s direction.

“I figured if tall, dark, and handsome over here said yes, you’d tag along.” The corner of Trowa’s mouth twitched in amusement at that. He caught Heero staring at him. The guy had an uncanny knack for noticing things and by the knowing look on his face, he knew exactly what they’d walked into.

“Sorry Duo,” he said placidly, despite never taking his eyes off Heero.

“Trowa,” Everyone looked over at Quatre who apparently had started walking away, closer to their rooms. “You’ll still help me...with the thing?” Trowa almost laughed. Quatre might have a decent poker face, but his bullshitting game needed work. Lots of it. Not much else to do for it right now, though.

“Sure,” he replied cooly.

“Maybe next time?” Heero offered. For someone who showed such little emotion himself, the guy picked up on a lot. The whole situation was so awkward, he had to work to keep from laughing. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“Maybe next time.”

Duo eyed him suspiciously and glanced back at Quatre who was also now standing with his hands in his pockets, a grin threatening to burst out into a smile. “Alright, have it your way,” he acquiesced, throwing his hands up in the air. The two walked off with Duo saying something about basketball.

Quatre looked pleased as punch as Trowa walked over to join him. Quatre held out his hand to him and, unable to contain himself any longer, laughed once their friends were out of earshot. Trowa took the offered hand and pulled him into his arms. He couldn’t stop his own chuckle from bubbling up through the kisses he laid down the blonde’s neck as he guided them around the corner and down the hall to their rooms.

“You realize you weren’t fooling anyone, right?” he asked. He could feel Quatre’s smile against his lips.

“I was totally convincing,” Quatre replied as he pushed him against the door to Quatre’s room. The timber of the blonde’s voice had changed to something lower and slightly breathless as their mouths found each other again.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he countered, pressing his hips against Quatre’s. He heard the hitch in Quatre’s breathing and his body practically vibrated underneath his larger frame. Quatre’s moan was swallowed by his mouth taking Quatre’s once more. Kissing him was like an addiction and Quatre’s moans a drug. Trowa didn’t think he’d ever get enough.

The pressure of his jeans was quickly turning from uncomfortable to painful against his growing erection. He pressed his hips against Quatre’s, their shafts sliding against each other and Quatre’s wasn’t the only gasp he heard. “Door, Quatre,” he said, reminding him that they were still in the hallway. His voice had dropped to a lower register, sounding husky and rough with need.

Quatre’s eyes met his once more as his hand fumbled with the door. Uncertainty and nervousness were there, but so too were desire and affection. Trowa’s heart hummed at the amount of trust Quatre was placing in him. He understood those feelings. As much as it turned him on that Quatre was so inexperienced, it still scared him more than a little. He was going to have to take great care not to push him too far too fast. He didn’t want to wreck this.

________________________________________________________________

The door opened and they stumbled into the dark room. Trowa’s arm around his waist was the only thing that kept him from falling backward. He heard the door click shut and Trowa kissed him again as he was pushed back toward the bed. He could still feel the guy’s almost frenetic physical need in the depth of his kisses and the force with which he pressed their bodies together, but there was a tenderness too. A carefulness that was somewhat unexpected.

The back of his knees hit the bed sooner than he expected, causing them both to tumble onto the mattress. Trowa’s chuckle was warm and deep in his ear as the taller pilot pressed on top of him. The sound sent a shiver down his spine. He smiled as Trowa languidly planted kisses along his neck. He ran a hand through the back of Trowa’s hair, gently massaging as he went. Trowa seemed to hum beneath his fingers.

Trowa’s hands began to roam over his body. He explored slowly, his touches sometimes gentle and almost ticklish over his clothes. Sometimes they were rougher, stronger, needier. It wasn’t long before he was writhing and moaning desperately under Trowa.

Always, though, Trowa was careful around Quatre’s bruised areas. Trowa remembered exactly where he was sore and made sure to graze his hands across them gently. Quatre found that level of mindfulness endearing.

He dipped his head next to Trowa’s, coaxing him away from his neck and kissing him passionately. Trowa responded in kind, quickly winning control, dictating pace and depth. He felt Trowa’s hands feverishly working the buttons on his vest loose.

“Careful with the buttons,” he said between kisses.

“You can afford a tailor,” Trowa countered, amusement in his voice.

True. “Completely...besides...the point,” he replied breathlessly.

That garnered him a forceful bite on his shoulder. Quatre groaned. His back arched, pressing his hips and erection against Trowa’s and then it wasn't just his gasp that he heard. His hands tightened in Trowa’s hair. “Trowa,” he moaned.

Trowa tugged Quatre’s button-down from his jeans and began freeing buttons with one hand while the other pressed against the hard line of his dick. _Fuck!_ The friction stole his breath away and shot a jolt of electricity through every nerve in his body. His brain could barely function as Trowa wrapped his fingers around his covered shaft and held him there. A tremor wracked through his body.

_______________________________________________________________

He was amazed at how close Quatre was already. He wasn’t even moving his hand and he hadn’t gotten the guy’s shirt off yet, but the tremor he’d felt run underneath him was unmistakable.

He paused in his attention to a particularly stubborn button halfway up Quatre’s shirt to look up into his face. His head was tipped back, eyes almost completely closed, and his chest rose and fell heavily as he pulled air in his lungs.

Trowa released his grip on Quatre’s shaft and ran his hands up along those trim sides, carefully over the bruised areas, then with more pressure everywhere else. Quatre groaned at the loss of his hand. Such a plaintive sound. Trowa chuckled, low and deep, even as he fought the urge to stop playing and grind the blonde underneath him into the mattress until they both came. _Not yet_ , he reminded himself. There would be time for that later.

“Trowa.” Quatre’s breathy call met his ears. Begging already. He couldn’t stop the short rumble of laughter that escaped his throat as he pressed a warm kiss on Quatre’s quivering stomach.

“I think you need to simmer down a little,” he said against Quatre’s pale skin. Unexpectedly, Quatre sat up, almost upending him and forcing him to sit on his knees. Then Quatre’s hot, demanding mouth was on his, threatening to steal his breath away. Their tongues clashed, once again vying for dominance. This time, Quatre didn’t give in so easily.  
Seemed the blonde could be a bit of a live wire once he got going.

He felt tugging at the hem of his sweater and he was more than happy to oblige. He heard it land somewhere on the floor. It was followed rather quickly by the button-down. Quatre’s hands roamed his body tentatively. Gently caressing, massaging, discovering every dip, crease, rise, and fall of his muscular frame.

Quatre placed a gentle kiss against Trowa’s chest, flicking his hot tongue against his skin. The sharp intake of breath was his as the air cooled his wet skin. His head tipped back in pleasure as Quatre dipped his head lower, planting a trail of kisses all the way down to the lip of his jeans.

The effect was dizzying and Trowa was forced to thread his fingers in Quatre’s hair to keep himself from falling over. The last thing he really needed was to literally fall head over heels off the bed.

A moan escaped him as he watched that blonde shock of hair made its way down. He groaned, thinking Quatre might go even lower. His erection throbbed something awful against his pants and he so desperately wanted to see just how much of him Quatre’s delicious mouth could take.

Instead, he felt Quatre’s tongue press against his skin. His gasp turned into a moan as that tongue trailed lazily upward. He felt Quatre smile as his lips brushed against his flushed skin. Tongue dragging across his hard abs, Quatre nipped his side, just under his ribcage. A wave of heat and electricity shot through his body.

He groaned in frustration. If Quatre was going to keep that up, he might just push that mouth back down.

_______________________________________________________________

Quatre felt rather pleased with himself as Trowa’s gasps and moans drifted down to his ears. The hand in his hair unexpectedly let go, causing him to flick a glance up. Trowa reached down, cupping his chin in his hand.

“That’s enough of that,” he said. His voice was all gravel and desire. Trowa’s green eyes held his as the taller pilot leaned forward, forcing Quatre backward until his back was against the mattress. Trowa wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him in close against him and his eyes fluttered closed.

Their mouths met again, tenderly this time. The heat was still there, that need for completion, but the force with which he claimed Quatre’s mouth was gone. Their kisses were long and gentle.

Trowa’s hand ran down the length of his body, over the bulge in his jeans, and wrapped his fingers around his shaft once more. His moan was swallowed by Trowa’s mouth as he slowly stroked his shaft.

Quatre broke their kiss, gasping as his head tipped backward. Trowa took the opening he’d given him, running his tongue from the base of his collarbone all the way up to his chin. His back arched reactively, thrusting his dick against Trowa’s hand even harder. _Dear God._ He called Trowa’s name as sparks danced across his skin.

Trowa worked his hand faster, pressing harder. His mouth nipped and kissed it’s way to one of his nipples. Quatre squirmed beneath him. His body trembled and his breaths shuddered. His hand rested on Trowa’s head, gently but insistently pushing him lower. “Trowa, please.” His voice sounded tight even to his own ears.

Apparently, that’s what Trowa had been waiting for. Trowa removed his arm from around his waist, using both hands to unbuckle his belt. Then the button to his jeans. Quatre let out a shaky breath as the zipper slowly clicked open, releasing his throbbing shaft from its confinement.

There was a pause and he glanced down. Trowa was looking at him, with Quatre’s hand on his head, an expression of concern on his face. He swallowed the moan that had formed in his throat. “Please don’t stop,” he begged.

Trowa continued to consider him for a moment, seemingly unsure whether to believe him or not. Quatre groaned in mild frustration. Trowa couldn’t leave him all wound up like this. Not for a second time. “Trowa, please? I’m fine. Please.”

Slowly, with him watching, Trowa hooked his fingers under the band of his boxers and pulled. Quatre kicked his socks off and then he was naked...in front of Trowa. He could feel the color rise in his cheeks.

Trowa leaned forward, planting a kiss on his forehead, then his lips before taking his shaft firmly in his hand and began to slowly work his hand up and down. Quatre’s body quaked. His eyelids dropped half-closed. Trowa’s hand moved faster.

He moaned, eyes half-closed as he thrust his hips against Trowa’s hand. He wanted more. Needed more. Tightening his grip in Trowa’s hair he nudged the taller pilot lower.

Trowa shifted in between his legs. He could feel his hot breath against his skin. A shudder of expectation ran through him as he begged once more. His pleas turned into a gasp as Trowa’s hot mouth enveloped the head of his dick. Quatre threw his head back, panting as Trowa pressed his tongue against him and sucked.

Another tremor coursed through him as Trowa slowly took the rest of him in, pulling shuddering moans from his throat. The warmth and Trowa’s tongue dancing along his shaft threatened to undo him. His hands on Trowa’s head held on for dear life. He needed something solid to hold onto.

From under half-hooded eyes, he watched as Trowa’s head bobbed up and down. His pace increased, as did the pressure he put on Quatre’s shaft with his tongue. He shook all over. There was a heat building inside him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it back. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Trowa,” he called out, though he wasn’t sure he heard since he continued sucking his dick. Quatre gasped as the tremors came faster now, one after the other. That heat was coming too and he couldn’t stop it.

He cried out as white light erupted behind his eyelids. He could feel his dick constrict and let loose inside Trowa’s warm mouth. He whimpered, shuddering as his back arching involuntarily as Trowa sucked him dry.

Quatre lay there on the bed, panting as his mind drifted hazily. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was only vaguely aware of Trowa withdrawing his mouth from his shaft. The bed rose and fell underneath him, then dipped next to him, though he wasn’t sure he knew why. His eyes were too heavy to even try opening them.

He heard Trowa’s voice next to his ear and felt his warm body next to his. Quatre turned toward him, tucking his blonde head into the crook of his shoulder while Trowa pulled the covers up and over them and together they drifted off to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated the end of this chapter. Once I got to working on what was supposed to be Chapter 16, it started to feel more like the end of Chapter 15, so here it is. Currently working on chapter 16.

Castonev stomped down the hall as he made his way to the conference room, the sharp sound clacking against the granite floor and echoing off the walls. The angry pace he set reflected his mood. One of his generals had just called to tell him they had ended in a neutral position with the Preventer forces in the foothills region in Iran.

He was furious. After the two losses they’d already been subjected to, he needed a win. The trap they’d set for the Preventer forces should have worked, but instead of walking into it, they’d retreated. Despite looking like they had routed Castonev’s forces, Preventer had backed off. He couldn’t find an explanation for it. It vexed him and he didn’t like being vexed.

The two soldiers guarding his war room clicked their heels and saluted as he approached before opening the large double doors for him. “Explain!” he barked at the men situated at an ostensibly long table. Everyone looked uncomfortable under his gaze.

Aleksandr, one of his most experienced generals, cleared his throat. “The Preventers are countering us at every turn. They got lucky outside of Belbog, but they were able to press that advantage. Since then, they seem to be able to figure out our tactics as we execute them.”

“And why is that?” he asked crossly, staring at each of his generals in turn. When no one answered, he slammed a fist on the table. “I want answers. This is unacceptable. These Preventers must be stopped.”

“It might be the pilot from that modified Taurus,” came a smooth voice from the wall. Castonev looked up. Directly across from him, all the way on the other end of the table, mounted on the wall was a large flat screen TV. Steel gray eyes, so very much like his own, looked at him beneath a dark shock of hair. Three day’s worth of stubble growth followed along a sharp jaw.

“Niki, You think he’s still alive? You wrecked that suit,” Castonev replied. Those gray eyes flashed with something that looked predatory and cruel.

“That pummeler didn’t finish the job,” came a lazy reply. “Unless I smash that pilot into nothing, I assume he is alive.”

“He hasn’t been seen on the battlefield since the first battle,” countered another of his generals.

Niki laughed. The sound held no warmth. “He’d need a new one. Perhaps he has his own mechanical issues like the Deboshir. Either way, that pilot is alive and he wouldn’t allow himself to be completely shut out of the action.”

“He’s pilot 04, Quatre Raberba Winner,” added Evgeni, his intelligence general offered. He looked at Castonev. “According to the OZ files we recently obtained, he is listed as the tactician of the group.”

Castonev thought for a moment. He was rather surprised to discover that the son of pacifist Zayeed Winner and de facto heir to the Winner family business was indeed a Gundam pilot. That certainly made things interesting, though. “Get me all the information you can on the Winner boy. There has to be something we can use against him.” He looked up to Niki through the TV screen. “Will the Deboshir be ready to fight in the next battle?”

“The arm still overheats,” replied Niki with a frown. “The mechanics just can’t keep it cooled down over long periods of time. Using that particular function will have to be prioritized towards high-level targets, but yes. The suit can be used.”

“Good,” replied Castonev. “Then help our forces push back the Preventers in the next battle and show them the power of Russian ingenuity.”

Niki smiled a toothy smile. “I will destroy the Gundam pilots, Uncle. The Winner kid will not escape me again. Then we will see how they fare against us.”

Castonev smiled as well. He had no doubt Niki would get the troublesome pilot out of the way.

_____________________________________________________________

Trowa felt Quatre’s warm body shift against his as slumber slowly released its grip. Their bodies weren’t as tangled together as when they had fallen asleep. Laying on his back, he stared at the ceiling for a while, processing last night’s events. This night’s events? He didn’t know what time it was. He felt Quatre rustle against him again and it made his heart sing. Didn’t much matter what day it was. Quatre was here. That’s all that mattered.

He turned his head to look at the sleeping blonde. Only Quatre wasn’t sleeping. Those big puppy dog eyes stared right back at him. He didn’t even attempt to keep the grin from pulling at his face. “Creeper.”

Quatre’s eyes sparkled as he smiled back. It was radiant, that smile. With his hair standing up at odd ends, going every which way, he looked well sexed too. He even looked more rested than when he’d joined them for dinner, however long ago that was. All that residual tenseness in his body seemed to have evaporated. For a moment at least, Quatre looked more like the young high schooler he had gone to an art museum with rather than the veteran Gundam pilot he’d been the last few days.

Quatre shrugged. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Trowa shifted onto his side, propping his elbow on his pillow and held his head in his hand, a mirror image of his lover. His grin turned into an all-out smile. Yes, Quatre was his lover. The thought of that had an alcoholic effect on him, without the hangover. Quatre seemed to notice. “What?” he asked with a smile. Trowa shook his head.

“Nothing much. Just thinking this is starting to become a habit,” he answered quietly.

“Except this time you didn’t leave me hanging.” Ouch. That wasn’t entirely fair.

He fixed Quatre with a reproachful expression. “You’d almost died,” he countered. The memory threatened to constrict his throat, so he paused and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath to ground himself. When his eyes opened he could see that smile on Quatre’s face had gone so far as to crinkle his nose.

Oh. So he’d taken the bait.

“Sorry,” Quatre said quietly. The amusement was still there, though. “Too soon?”

Trowa closed his eyes again and ran his free hand over his face. The stubble along his jaw grated against his hand. “A bit,” he admitted. He opened his eyes again, drawing them down to Quatre’s grossly discolored sides. Gently, he reached out his hand and grazed across the large splotches of deep blue and dark purple. Quatre shivered.

“It’s really not as bad as it looks,” Quatre reassured him.

He didn’t agree. “It looks pretty bad, Quatre.”

“I’m sore. A little stiff. Just don’t press too hard and I’m fine,” he said. Trowa thought Quatre’s cavalier attitude contradicted the evidence on his body and remained unconvinced. “My lungs aren’t even constricted anymore.” Yeah, he’d noticed that. Still, knowing he’d been hurt that much didn’t sit well with him. Quatre shivered again as he ran a hand up along his side, over his ribs, and across his back. He pulled Quatre closer.

He leaned in for a kiss and saw something he hadn’t noticed before. A bullet scar on Quatre’s right arm, located high enough that even a t-shirt would have covered it. Light pink and slightly concave, there was no mistaking what it was. “Quatre.”

Apparently, his tone was disapproving because Quatre’s answer was tentative. “Yeah?”

“What happened for you to get this,” he asked, gently running his thumb over the light pink circle. He looked back into Quatre's face and, surprisingly, saw him smiling again, warm and bright.

“It happened when I met Rashid.”

He blanched. “Seriously?”

An embarrassed blush crept up his face. “Yeah. I was on a shuttle headed to Earth when the Maguanacs took control of it. They were negotiating with Father when I noticed one of their group ratting them out to the...”

Trowa stopped him with a raised hand. “Wait...hold on. They hijacked your shuttle?” he asked incredulously. Those guys _adored_ Quatre. What he’d just said made no sense.

“Yeah.”

“And now they follow you.”

Quatre looked far too pleased with his obvious shock. “Yeah. They commandeered four of our family’s ships plus our shuttle and taken to MO-III.” Trowa stared at Quatre in quiet disbelief. “The satellite was manned by anti-Alliance prisoners and weren’t getting paid.”

“Slave labor.” He’d heard that had been a practice used in several resource satellites under Earth’s control. One of the many grievances the people in outer space had against the Alliance.

Quatre nodded solemnly. “So they dragged us to MO-III as insurance against an attack on them until they could get those people and get out. Father let them take the resources and kept the incident off the Alliance’s radar.”

Made sense. He could see the logic in that, though he had never liked such tactics. Quatre’s father’s cooperation shocked him a little, though he knew nothing of the man to compare against. “Your father helped them? Even after they abducted you?”

An expression he couldn’t understand flashed across Quatre’s face. He didn’t mention his father much and Trowa’s query seemed to have brought up an uncomfortable topic. “Father was very understanding in some things and unrelenting in others. He was…” Quatre looked up at the ceiling, apparently searching for something. “Complicated,” he finished, looking back at him once more.

Trowa nodded. The subject was obviously delicate, so he let the matter go. “Doesn’t explain the scar.”

Quatre took a breath, reorienting himself. “One of their members sold them out and alerted the Alliance. I tried to be helpful and tied him up.”

Trowa couldn’t help but smile. Of course, he would. “That’s exactly like you. How old were you?”

“12.”

“How’d you get him?”

Quatre shrugged again. “Honestly I just got lucky, but I didn’t do the job right, so he got loose. Grabbed a gun and fired...”

“And you ran in front of it,” he finished. That was just like Quatre too. Neither of them was smiling anymore. Even an arm wound could be dangerous. Typically a through-and-through, but still, the arm had a lot of blood vessels, including an artery.

“Didn’t help much,” Quatre admitted. “Rashid still got shot. The Maguanacs were going to fight their way out against the Alliance. I took a mobile suit and did it myself. It’s how I got the goggles, actually. They used to be Rashid’s.”

He stared at him with new appreciation. No wonder they followed him. “No training?”

Quatre shook his head. “It wasn’t difficult.” Trowa huffed a laugh. “What?” Quatre asked, looking at him with mild indignation.

“Most people wouldn’t have been able to do all that,” he pointed out. Quatre reached for his free hand and entwined their fingers together. Trowa gently caressed his thumb with his own.

“We’re not exactly most people,” Quatre said quietly. Trowa looked at the blonde contemplatively. It was a true enough statement, but only very rarely would Quatre admit to it.

“You make more sense now, though,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood as his eyes drifted back to the scar contemplatively. When he looked back up into Quatre’s face again, a sassy eyebrow was raised in his direction.

“ _I_ make more sense?”

Quatre didn’t speak the words that came after, but he heard them all the same. Aside from Duo, the blonde was the most open and friendly of their group. As a unit, they had never formally introduced or shared much of their histories with each other.

Instead, they’d taken each other at face value, letting their actions speak for themselves. Quatre hadn’t concealed who he was or his position within his family. Quite the opposite. Once they were together on the support ship, Peacemillion, everyone had known who he was. The guy was an open book to anyone who asked.

He was the exact opposite. By now all of the Gundam pilots knew that Trowa Barton was not his real name. It and the Gundam Heavyarms had originally belonged to the son of Dekim Barton of the Barton Foundation. The Foundation had been the original financial backers of the five scientists who built the Gundams and were also the creators of the original Operation Meteor.

Trowa, who at the time had gone by No-Name, had been a mechanic working on Heavyarms when one of the Gundam's engineers murdered the original Trowa upon learning the true plans of Operation Meteor which consisted of dropping a colony onto Earth, resulting in mass casualties. Having grown attached to the suit and seeing an opportunity, he’d taken the identity of the Gundam's suddenly deceased pilot.

That was the extent of everyone’s knowledge of his past. No one asked or tried to pry anything else out of him. No one seemed overly interested in opening old wounds.

And yet, there was the unasked question. Right on the edge of Quatre’s sweet mouth. Relationships were built on trust and trust required shared knowledge.

Trowa had never been good with relationships.

Quatre seemed to feel his hesitation because he dropped the subject. “What time is it?” he asked rhetorically as he half rolled onto his back in an attempt to view the alarm clock. The muscles in his torso stretched and twisted with the motion easily, despite the offensive discoloration along his sides.

Trowa ate up the sight in front of him. His hand caressed the length of Quatre’s body from his hip, up along his ribs, then changed course as he wrapped his arm around his back, pulling him in close. He dipped his head, pressing a kiss in the center of his chest. Quatre shivered against him and let out an unexpected gasp. The sound sent tendrils of warmth throughout his body.

He smiled against Quatre’s soft skin. Slowly he kissed his way downward, causing Quatre to squirm and moan against him. He felt fingers take a hold of his hair. The pull sent sparks shooting over his nerves and caused his dick to harden. “Trowa,” Quatre’s moan was breathless, the rise and fall of his chest rapid.

Trowa nipped, scraping his teeth along Quatre’s hip. He felt the blonde throw his head back as a yelp escaped his lips. The blonde’s body trembled deliciously as Trowa’s hand gradually made its way to Quatre’s quickly hardening shaft.

Again, the sound of Quatre calling his name was breathless, pleading. He began rubbing his hand gently across Quatre’s dick as he dragged his tongue up his body. Quatre shuddered, cursed, and thrust his hips. Trowa chuckled.

Their eyes met, Quatre’s blues looked down at him, wide and wanting, with a hint of nervousness. Trowa continued dragging his tongue upward, hand still teasing the blonde’s rising shaft. Quatre tipped his head back, allowing him better access as he reached his collarbone, then his neck, and along Quatre’s smooth jaw.

He shifted, forcing Quatre onto his back and knelt beside him on the bed. The change caused Quatre to loose his grip on Trowa’s hair. With his free hand, Trowa held Quatre’s arms above his head at the wrist.

Quatre’s face was flushed, his whole body trembling, filled with need and desire. He took a moment to take the look of him in. The guy was gorgeous and with his hands above his head like that...Trowa bit down the groan that threatened to escape him. Quatre trusted him completely and Trowa wanted to give him the stars in return.

“Trowa, please,” Quatre begged, staring up at him from under heavy lidded eyes. He leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on the bridge of his nose, a smile flashed across the blonde’s face moments before he took Quatre’s mouth.

Hot and heavy, he forced his tongue past Quatre’s lips. Though a little delayed in his reactions, Quatre opened to him willingly, moaning into his mouth as Trowa’s fingers wrapped around his erection and began pumping. Quatre’s back arched, thrusting his hips to meet his hand as he pumped. His slender body shuddered as waves of pleasure rolled over him, but he made no move to pull his raised arms out of Trowa’s grip.

His tongue roamed Quatre’s mouth like it was new. Prodding, tasting, discovering. And then Quatre was there, meeting him in intensity. Demanding his own terms in spite of his position. Trowa moaned. His dick throbbed. After two nights of getting hard without release, he was going to need to try to even the score.

Pumping his hand faster, Quate finally broke their kiss just enough to pull some much-needed air into his lungs. They watched each other through partially glazed eyes, both their breathing was ragged and gasping. The tremors he felt run through Quatre were coming faster and stronger, pulling plaintive cries from him. He had to be close.

Trowa looked up at the alarm clock on the nightstand near the blonde’s head. The glowing thing read 5:42 a.m. He looked down and smiled wickedly before withdrawing his hand.

“It’s already almost 6,” he said through labored breaths. “We really need to get out of bed.” With that, he rolled off Quatre, off the bed, and made his way to the bathroom.

“Seriously?!”

________________________________________________________________

Quatre groaned in frustration, staring at the ceiling in the same position he had been left in. Trowa literally had him on the edge and then he’d just walked away. Totally not fair.

With an annoyed sigh, he got out of bed and followed Trowa. His breath pulled in as his bare feet padded across the chilly floor. At least the bathroom had carpeted mats. “Trowa,” he started to say when he was pulled into a strong embrace. He smiled in between gentle kisses at the warmth of Trowa’s body and the peace he found in his arms. Quatre pressed himself against Trowa with enough force to put the guy’s back against the cold shower door. The hiss of shock that escaped him was enough for him to chuckle despite Trowa’s lips on his. Ha!

Trowa cupped the back of his head, pulling them as close together as possible. Quatre kissed him harder, feeling the need for completion growing in them both. He let his hands wander, delighting in Trowa’s hard, masculine frame. His hands slid lower, down Trowa’s hard abs, down his hips.

His fingers almost reached Trowa’s shaft when Trowa’s hands found his, stopping their movement. Trowa broke their kiss and Quatre stared up into his eyes in confusion, heart hammering against his chest. They were both aching for release. He didn’t understand why Trowa had stopped him. In the back of his mind, he registered Trowa hooking a foot around one of his ankles.

Then suddenly their positions were reversed with Trowa behind him. Despite the arm around his waist, he was forced to put his hands against the shower door to keep himself steady. He gasped in surprise and Trowa was right there with him, pressing against him. He could feel Trowa’s erection between his legs and oh God did that make his own dick throb.

“Not yet,” Trowa said, his voice tight with desire and the challenge to stay in control. That voice next to his ear made him shiver. He felt Trowa’s hand wrap around his dick once more. Hard and fast, he pumped and Quatre could feel the fireworks building inside him again. His body shuddered.

Trowa’s arm around his waist disappeared and the taller pilot placed his hand over his own against the shower door. Their fingers twined together as Trowa dusted kisses across his shoulder. He tipped his head back, calling Trowa’s name.

Another tremor wracked his body violently as Trowa’s hand continued stroking his shaft. Trowa’s name spilled out of his mouth repeatedly, begging to finish. He wasn’t sure how much longer his legs would support him.

Trowa took his mouth as he went over the edge. He whimpered into his mouth as Trowa continued to jack him off until he was completely finished. Slowly, Trowa released his shaft and untangled their hands. Wrapping both arms around his waist, he broke their kiss long enough to turn him around so that it was his back against the shower this time.

Quatre’s body continued to tremble in the aftermath of his climax. His brain buzzed hazily as Trowa kissed him slowly, gently. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. As his mind cleared he could still feel Trowa’s erection pressing against him. Trowa released his grip on his mouth, moving to occupy himself down along his neck. Tilting his head to the side, giving Trowa better access, he was finally able to catch his breath.

Trowa’s hot tongue felt like a firebrand against his cooling skin and he squirmed beneath him. In response, Trowa scraped his teeth along his shoulder and bit down. “Behave.” Trowa’s voice was rough and strained. Quatre shuddered under him and quieted his fidgeting. His hands weren’t stopped from roaming, though.

His fingers found Trowa’s dripping erection and closed around it. Trowa’s head rested against his as his fingers traveled down his length. Trowa shuddered beneath his hands, sending a new thrill throughout his own body. He heard Trowa gasp his name as he tightened his hand and pumped.

Trowa cupped his face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss. Hot, demanding, and desperate. He saw an opening and took it. Trowa acquiesced, allowing him to take charge. Quatre ran his thumb across the tip of Trowa’s dick, causing him to startle, breaking their kiss. “Fuck! Quatre,” he groaned, head tipping backward.

Quatre looked up into Trowa’s eyes, the taller pilot’s hands framing his face. His hands paused at the pained sound in his lover’s voice. He became suddenly afraid he’d done something wrong. Trowa stared back at him, the need to finish painted clearly across his face. “Quatre, please,” he whispered.

He smiled and rose up on the balls of his feet to give Trowa a long, hard kiss. When they broke apart, he sank to his knees. Trowa groaned as he watched him place a hand on the floor for support, then wrap the other around his shaft, and take him into his mouth.

________________________________________________________________

Trowa groaned as Quatre dropped to his knees, all smile and cheekiness. Simply watching him take his dick in his mouth almost had Trowa spilling himself. He placed a hand against the shower door for support and finding purchase in Quatre’s golden hair with the other.

He gasped as Quatre took the tip of him in slowly. That lovely tongue of his sucked him so spectacularly. It wasn’t long before Quatre had him gasping and begging for more. He could feel his climax bubbling just under the surface as Quatre opened his throat and tentatively took more of him in. He had to force himself not to push Quatre’s head down further, reminding himself that he hadn’t done this before and patience was required.

Could have fooled him, though, aside from the guy taking his sweet time taking his more of his length, the guy certainly sucked like he knew what he was doing. Even down to that thing he did, pressing his tongue along the underside of his shaft.

His body trembled and his grip in Quatre’s hair grew tighter as he closed his eyes, trying to keep from reaching his climax. At this rate, he wouldn’t last before Quatre had the chance to take him completely if he could at all. “Quatre...Quatre...I…” he panted.

Quatre seemed to know what he was trying to say. Instead of taking more of him inside, Quatre picked up the pace. Trowa moaned. He couldn’t take his eyes off the blonde as his head bobbed faster with urgency. He could feel the heat inside him rise from between his legs and rush forth.

“Quatre,” he called out. He tried to warn him, but Quatre kept bobbing his head up and down, sucking for all he was worth. His cry was indecipherable and raw as he spilled himself down Quatre’s throat. Quatre swallowed as much as he could before he allowed Trowa’s shaft to slide out of his mouth.

They stayed like that for Trowa didn’t know how long. Trowa forced himself to draw in long, steady breaths, using one hand against the shower for support and the other resting on top of Quatre’s head. And beautiful little Quatre knelt at his feet, panting there on the floor, his hands against the tile keeping him upright.

Once he was able to drag enough air into his lungs to form words, he untangled his hand from Quatre’s golden head. Reaching down, he cupped Quatre’s chin in his hand and forced him to look up. What looked like tears beaded at the corners of his eyes. A spike of worry drove through him. “You okay?” he asked.

Quatre’s smile was bright. He looked seemingly pleased with himself. “Fine,” he replied. His voice sounded scratchy and hoarse. Not surprising. Trowa pushed himself away from the shower door and after making sure he was steady on his own two feet, reached down and helped Quatre rise to his.

Trowa pulled him in for another kiss. Cupping his face in his hand, he caressed his thumb across Quatre’s cheek. Quatre leaned against him like putty. “We really do have to get ready,” he eventually said between kisses. Quatre groaned against his lips and he had to agree with him. If it were up to him, he’d stay with Quatre like this forever.

Quatre’s back was against the shower door and after a few more quick kisses they managed to pry themselves apart from each other. Quatre’s grin was impish when they parted. In a move quicker than Trowa could react to, Quatre had opened the shower door and stepped in, closing it behind him. Only big enough for one, that left Trowa standing in front of the door all alone.

Trowa waved his hand in the air in mock exasperation as the water started falling from the shower head. “Of course you’d take the shower.” Quatre opened the door, poking his head out and stealing another quick kiss before shutting himself back within the steaming walls.

“You have your own,” Quatre told him over the noise of the water. “Or you can just wait until I’m done.”

______________________________________________________________

In the early evening, all of the Gundam pilots were called into the briefing room to discuss their current situation. Quatre and Trowa walked in together. Trowa, looking for all the world as if nothing ever phases him, was calm and sedate. Quatre, on the other hand, was all smiles and a bundle of bright energy. He grinned as they sat down with the rest of their group. Quatre looked radiant and alive, like bottled sunshine.

“Alright,” Lady Une said as the meeting came to order. “The drones captured multiple large IED’s in the area in which we were planning to move into. Our main units are taking shifts in prematurely detonating them. They should be done soon. The Maquanac forces that are on their way have been told to steer clear of the blasting zones.” She brought up aerial surveillance pictures onto the TV screen.

“These pictures give us an indication of how many suits they have. Their numbers were not depleted much, despite our work last night, so take care and stay on your toes. There has been no visible sign of the Monstrosity, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

She looked at Quatre pointedly, “I also hear that your new modified Taurus is ready to go.” Quatre nodded beside him, unable to contain his smile.

“We did a complete system diagnostic and put it through a mock fight this morning. Everything checked out perfectly,” Quatre responded.

He remembered the pleased expression on Quatre’s face when he’d been able to take the suit out and put it through its paces against one of the main troop units. The suit had responded beautifully. On top of a fun morning, having his suit green lit for combat again had him absolutely giddy all afternoon.

“Good,” Lady Une replied. “I’m sure Captain Carlisle will appreciate your skills on the battlefield.”

“It’s still early in the day yet,” the Captain deadpanned. “Let’s not jinx anything.”

He watched the color rise in Quatre’s cheeks, though he prudently kept his mouth shut. From the corner of his eye, he could see Duo and Wufei look fairly amused by the exchange.

“Once the field is clear, we will page your unit, so stay ready. From there the entire Preventer force will proceed and meet the Eurussians. Any questions?” When no one offered any, she dismissed them.

The five of them left the briefing room and began making their way to the mess hall. Quatre walked quietly beside him, hands in his pockets. He casually draped an arm across Quatre’s shoulders as they went. He looked up, flashing him one of those brilliant smiles before turning his attention back to Duo. They listened as the long-haired pilot teased Quatre for the incident with the Captain until the blonde threatened him with showering Wufei with glitter and blaming it on him.

“You know you just shot that horse in the face, right?” Duo asked, walking backward so he could face Quatre.

“Doesn’t matter,” Wufei replied cooly. “I’ll still blame you.”

He laughed as Duo’s face blanched. “That’s totally unfair,” he whined.

Suddenly, the paging system crackled to life. “Paradise Unit to the docking bay immediately. Paradise Unit to the docking bay immediately.”

The stopped and looked towards the ceiling, then back to each other.

“That’s not good,” Wufei said.

“It can’t be time to go yet. There’s no way the main units are done with those IED’s.” Quatre added, looking up at him.

“The Eurussians probably made an early move,” Heero answered.

“Well, time to go!” Duo yelled, taking off. He withdrew his arm from around Quatre as they all took after their friend.

Their suits were ready and waiting in the hangar when they arrived. Trowa glanced to the side as he made his way to his open cockpit door. Halfway down the scaffolding that lead mechanic from the other day was holding out Quatre’s helmet out to him. Quatre grabbed it, turning around and walking backward a few paces, sharing some words with the guy before jumping into his suit.

He smiled. Quatre was certainly ready to go. He put his own helmet on, just in case. If that new suit showed up, they’d be flying around so fast, he’d need the oxygen support.

Sally’s voice cut in through his communication line. “Eurussian forces are attacking our main line units. We have reports coming in that they’re using grappling tethers to pull suits into the IED’s and setting them off that way. They look to be coming at us in full force.” He heard Wufei curse, saying something about dirty tricks. Trowa had to agree. They weren’t about to let them get away with it, though.

His suit blinked to life before him. His fingers tingled and the knot of exhilaration settled in his stomach. “Everyone ready?” Quatre asked through his communication line. His voice was clear and confident. A shiver ran down his back. He’d do anything for that voice.

The hair stood at the back of his neck as an affirmative chorus answered.

“Then let’s go,” Quatre said as they took off. His heart raced in his chest as they flew into battle once more.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

The fighting at the front was disjointed and chaotic when they arrived. Some Preventer forces had opted to stay back, out of cable reach from the Eurussians, while others were still fighting their tethers, trying desperately not to get pulled into the IED field.

With Trowa’s artillery fire covering them, Quatre and Duo dived in, slicing cables, allowing caught Preventer suits to escape. More grappling hooks shot forward, trying to capture them as well. Quatre watched as Duo jetted off in one direction as he went in another.

He felt his suit lurch as a tether landed on its mark. His body was thrown against his harness. He only had a moment or two before they threw more tethers and began dragging him in. After a quick calculation, he gathered that he was just out of the IED field. With a silent prayer that he was right, he cut the thrusters.

His Taurus dropped to the ground in an eruption in sand. The sudden curtain of debris shrouded him from the view of other Eurussian suits and before his captor could react, Quatre settled himself into a crouch, grabbed the slack in the tether, and yanked. An explosion of fire and metal could be seen as the sand settled around him. The tether fell limp. Quatre discarded it as he launched away, returning to his group.

“Now what?” asked Duo. “If we fly over that no man’s land, they’ll see us. We’ll be picked off.” Quatre opened his mouth to answer when they noticed the Eurussians moving toward them en masse at an alarming pace. They’d be upon the Preventers in less than a minute.

“Guess that answers that question,” Trowa remarked dryly.

“Those IED’s must be used up,” Wufei said.

Quatre did a quick assessment of the area. “Don’t meet them, let them come to us. If there are any explosives left, they should trigger them.”

No new explosions triggered as the Eurussian forces crossed the empty expanse between them. The size of their military power was impressive. Obviously, they were prepared to expend a great number of resources to hold this line.

“They’re pretty bold considering the last time,” Heero said as the first wave met them.

Quatre silently agreed as he dodged, dived, and returned fire with multiple targets. Even with his increased speed, he was hard pressed to avoid taking too much damage. Everywhere he turned saw him faced with enemy suits.

Their forces seemed to fight for hours without either side giving in. “They’re everywhere!” he said in frustration after getting hammered particularly hard. He’d been forced backward several paces. He looked around him, taking stock of the overall condition of their forces. He wasn’t entirely shocked to see that the whole line had been pushed back as well.

Heero and Duo were fighting a large group of Eurussian suits along the far left edge of the battlefield. Trowa was also on his left, not too far off. Certainly, within striking distance, should either of them get into trouble. Wufei dodged among a set of enemy suits to his right. He was being pressed pretty heavily with another pair of suits coming at him.

Quatre pressed the advantage he’d just opened against his own pair of Eurussian enemies. After a successful feint, he sliced through one. Removing his scimitar, he launched onto the other. The suit fell to the ground, intact and with its pilot still alive, but the suit had been rendered inoperable.

He rushed over to Wufei, meeting the two oncoming suits before they could reach him. The air was a flurry of firepower, flashing swords, dives, feints, and rushes. He was just about to push his enemies back when he heard Trowa’s voice shout a warning.

Looking up, he saw nothing. A moment later a video window popped up on his screen, showing the bright blue outline of a very large mobile suit. Crap!

Quatre dodged, but it wasn’t enough. He felt something attach to one of his suit’s legs. The force unbalanced him, rocking the suit violently. A yank had him careening to the ground. Memories of last time swept through him. With a determined set of his jaw, he refused to get beaten by this suit again.

If he’s got me, might as well say hi, he thought. He brought his suit’s hand to where he thought he was caught and sure enough, there was that whip-like arm. He was forced to drop one of his scimitars in order to pull out a beam saber fast enough for it to be of use. In the background, he heard Wufei shout to the others. “That suit’s going after Quatre again!”

He rushed the Monstrosity, saber leading. Surprisingly enough, it disengaged and dodged his attack. The move spun his Taurus, requiring him to spend precious moments regaining control. Just as he stabilized himself, he felt a strike across his back. The blow was glancing, but the force behind it once again caused him a rough jolt and sent him spinning.

Quatre used the momentum to face his attacker and re-engage. Damn this thing is way too fast, he thought as he dived in and out of striking range of the Monstrosity. Every time he almost landed a hit, he was forced back.

“There’s no way I’m getting close to this thing,” he said in frustration. No one can take this thing on by themselves.   
  
He felt the air rush out of his lungs as he was plowed into from the side. His suit crashed into the ground in a tangle of metal and sand. Quatre could feel the demonic suit retract its punching arm. Any attempt at disengaging proved fruitless. He braced for impact.

Suddenly, he felt the shuddering repercussions in his suit as multiple missiles made contact with the Monstrosity. Trowa! Trowa was here! He felt the Monstrosity’s grip loosen. Trowa’s voice came over his system. “Quatre, get out of there!”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Re-engaging his thrusters, he launched out from under the Monstrosity, which turned around and engaged Trowa in combat. Quatre rounded back on the suit, but before he could land a hit he was launched to the side, this time from a ground artillery unit that had advanced without notice.

When Quatre righted himself again, positioning himself for another attack, he saw a new wave of Eurussian troops bearing down on them. There are more of them than we thought! With this many enemies, plus the Monstrosity...They were going to lose this ground.

Quatre looked to the side. Duo and Heero were taking a lot of fire by several Eurussian units. Under a barrage like that, all they would do is get torn up. They were going to have to retreat as soon as they had the opportunity. It also meant they wouldn’t be able to come to his and Trowa’s aid.

Trowa was still engaged with the Monstrosity, firing round after round of artillery into the damned thing. The Monstrosity’s pulverizing arm cocked back. Quatre rushed his suit forward, aiming a direct body blow for the black machine, but he wasn’t fast enough. With impressive speed the underside ram made contact with the center of Trowa’s Taurus, sending him flying backward.

“Trowa!” His heart pounded against his chest in fear at seeing Trowa’s suit launch like that. The Taurus hit the ground hard too, with no response from its pilot to his call. The Monstrosity wheeled around, leveling its gaze on Quatre. He had just enough time to brace defensively as the suit once again launched at him.

Shielding himself with his remaining scimitar, he lashed back with his beam saber. With an ear-wrenching sound, his beam saber bit into the Eurussian beast. Quatre dipped his suit’s scimitar wielding shoulder, forcing the Monstrosity to fall forward until it leaned over him. He allowed his remaining scimitar to drop and put all his force behind the saber, driving it deeper into his enemy. The suit twisted away from him, though the beam saber cutting into its side didn’t allow the machine to completely escape him.

A strange popping sound, like bottle rockets, came from underneath him. Looking down, he could see the Monstrosity’s cockpit hatch open. A round, clear, glass looking barrier became visible. Inside he could see the suit’s pilot. Another popping noise emanated from the dome looking structure, followed by its detachment from the suit. The thing looked like a floating glass bubble with a person inside as it sped off into the distance. What the hell, he thought before turning his attention back to Trowa.

The sight turned him cold. The Eurussians were everywhere. Trowa’s suit was down, unmoving. Grapplers had been attached to his suit and a unit was beginning to drag him away. He tried to reach him through his individual line with no response.

Panic began to set in. He made a move to follow, to try to get Trowa out of there when Heero’s voice cut through his communication system. “Quatre, fall back!” There was no mistaking what it was. An order. Heero was ordering a full retreat. Which would let the enemy take Trowa away.

He hesitated. The logical part of him agreed with Heero’s call. There was no point in pressing against such a disadvantage. They were outnumbered and had been outmaneuvered. They had no footholds to make any kind of resurgence. To go after Trowa would be the equivalent of surrendering. The result would be the same. The Eurussians would end up with one more Gundam pilot in their clutches.

His heart screamed to go after him. There was no telling what they would do to him once they had him, especially with that crazy Monstrosity pilot still free. The thought of being separated from Trowa or worse, losing him permanently, was a possibility he couldn’t bear to entertain.

The entire Eurussian contingent was pulling back. Their units swarmed around two large masses. Trowa...and Wufei too. They have Wufei too?! One of the tactical officers voices cut across the system. “The Maguanac troops are arriving. All units fall back. I repeat, Maguanac troops are arriving. All units fall back.”

Quatre looked to the side. Sure enough, forty heavily armored mobile suits were marching their way. The cause of the Eurussian’s retreat in spite of their victory suddenly became apparent. He scanned the images of the battlefield, looking for anything he could exploit in order to make an attempt at Trowa.

Heero’s voice came over the system again, ordering him back. Still, he hesitated. His whole body shook in fear and anger. He couldn’t just leave him.

Heero’s image appeared in front of him. “Quatre, you need to fall back.” With difficulty, he tore his eyes from the sight of the unit retreating with Trowa’s immobilized suit.

“But, Heero…”

“He wouldn’t want you to throw yourself away for nothing. There’s a reason they keep going after you. Don’t be stupid.” He looked back at the battlefield. He couldn’t see Trowa’s mobile suit anymore. It was just a solid wall of Eurussian forces.

Regretfully, he turned away and joined Heero and Duo in the retreat.


	16. Chapter 16

The nerves flying around in his stomach had made him jittery. In the time it took them to fall back and begin docking, Quatre had gone from panicked, to morose, to outraged. He could feel his composure fraying. His anger was the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces.

He could see Heero and, farther back, Duo walking down the scaffolding towards him. His own pace was hurried but deliberate as he met them in the middle. “We need to resupply and go after them,” he practically yelled before either of his friends could open their mouths. Heero held up his hands, blocking him from moving any further. Their eyes met, warring with each other.

“Calm down, Quatre…”

He was hearing none of it. His whole body shook, thrumming as if he were a copper wire that had just gotten struck by lightning. “We have to go after them!”

“And we will,” he replied. “But being reckless about it will only get you killed...and likely Trowa too.”

Quatre felt himself deflate. The image of Trowa and Wufei locked in a cell, at the hands of that psycho Monstrosity pilot, concerned him greatly, but Heero was right. They needed to play this carefully.

Duo’s voice pulled his attention away from Heero’s stern gaze. “Trowa’s a tough guy,” he said quietly. “He can handle himself just fine until we get him back.” The sympathetic expression on his face was a complete one-eighty from Heero’s scolding visage.

Good cop, bad cop, huh? Not surprising. Those two had always worked well together. He sighed, dropping his gaze to the ground in surrender.

Lady Une’s piercing voice from the hallway had all three of their heads whipping in her direction. “Conference room. Now.”

With a brief glance at each other, the three of them followed her out of the hangar, Duo dropping a supportive arm around his shoulders as they went.

_______________________________________________________________

Castonev was a flurry of mixed emotions. He was furious at Niki for losing the Deboshir. That suit had taken over a year of careful construction to be built in secrecy. The loss of it to enemy hands was a terrible blow.

Reports that they had captured two of the five Gundam pilots had tempered his anger, however. His forces were currently bringing them to his location. The mobile suits had been left on the front lines. His top two commanders would take over those suits and use them against the Preventers once they were repaired and resupplied. He’d ordered Kozlov back. Without a superior mobile suit, he wanted to keep his nephew close.

Despite his inner conflictions, he reclined in the plush hotel chair as his commanders mentioned something about forty new suits appearing on the battlefield. When his forces had pushed into China’s capital and taken the Chinese Prime Minister and his family hostage, they had cleared out the city’s premier hotel for use as their command post. His military commanders had suggested a more secure location, but Castonev was confident the Preventer’s wouldn’t breach this far into Chinese territory.

“...is rather interesting,” he heard one of his strategy commanders saying. Castonev’s ears almost twitched. “Interesting” was not a word the man used often.

“What, exactly, is interesting?” he asked. He felt the men in the room look in his direction. That uncomfortable feeling at being acknowledged specifically wafted through the air conditioned room. Castonev smiled on the inside. He did so enjoy that feeling.

“The Gundam pilot 04, the Winner boy, seemed to hesitate significantly at the capture of his comrades...more so than the others,” the man stammered.

“You think so?” he asked contemplatively, an idle hand stroking his neat beard.

“Yes sir,” the man said after some hesitation. “The other two had already begun to retreat while he appeared to watch as we took 03 and 05 away. I think it is something we can exploit.”

Evgeni, his intelligence general spoke up. “We were able to gain more information about him through hacking various organization’s files.” A file folder was placed in front of him. Castonev thumbed through it with interest while the officer continued.

“According to OZ files, pilot 03 is Trowa Barton, who appears to be the first Gundam pilot the Winner boy met while attacking the Corsica base at the beginning of April of 195. Records show that these pilots actually fought with each other before leaving the battlefield together.”

“So they didn’t know each other beforehand?” Castonev deduced.

“That is the working theory,” the officer replied. “It seems the most likely scenario considering the strict sanctions against colony interactions and that each pilot hailed from a different area. Taken into account with other OZ files noting in their records that each Gundam was engineered by only one scientist, with five scientists equaling five decidedly different Gundams...The theory is solid.”

 _Makes sense_ , he thought. “Go on.”

“Right…” the man stammered as he regained his train of thought. “The two showed up at the New Edwards base together but left separately. The two aren’t mentioned together until mid-September when a Gundam is reported to have blown up a resource satellite and a space colony.”

Castonev nodded. He remembered. The civilians had been evacuated but a military presence had stayed behind to defend the colony. All souls had been obliterated with a single shot from the Gundam later named Wing Zero.

“OZ files indicate that pilots 01, 02, and 05, as well as the five engineers, were all prisoners of war at OZ’s Lunar Base. 03, Trowa Barton, is listed as an OZ soldier.”

“So the Winner heir went on a killing spree after his father died, eh? That’s pretty damning for the son of a pacifist.”

“Seems that way,” the officer responded. “We can’t determine whether or not he was physically present during the incident as we were focused on military intel and physical sightings, but it is possible. Zayeed Winner was known for keeping his children out of sight and away from prying eyes until they’d turned 18. Considering the Gundams were abandoned by the colonies around the end of July, resulting in all Gundams escaping to space, with the exception of 04 which self-detonated, it would make sense that he would return home and build a new machine with his family’s wealth.”

“Wouldn’t have sat well with the pacifist father.” Castonev mulled aloud.

“I find it difficult to believe that a man like that would knowingly allow his teenage son to build a weapon of mass destruction,” the voice of another of his generals, Aleksandr, interjected.

“Aleksandr is right,” Castonev agreed. “From all accounts, the Winner patriarch was a principled man and a true pacifist, but we also tend to tolerate funny things when it comes to family.”

“Yes, well...in any case, files indicate that the new Gundam, Wing Zero, was built and originally piloted by the Winner boy, who took out both the natural resource satellite and the colony,” Evgeni continued. “This becomes important because of what happened after both Trowa and pilot 01, Heero Yuy, were sent out by OZ in the Vayeate and Mercurius suits, respectively, in order to contain the threat.”

“Which was…” Castonev prodded with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Evgeni’s face curled into a grin. It was the look of a man who had discovered a juicy bit of leverage. The information regarding the destroyed colony was potentially damaging, but useless under current circumstances. “The OZ files also indicate that when fighting broke out between the two OZ suits and the new Gundam, it was Heero’s Mercurius that was the only one of those two suits that fought in that battle. Trowa didn’t lift a finger against him. Instead, the Vayeate is listed as ‘destroyed’ during the fighting. Shortly thereafter the battle ends.”

“Your point?” Castonev drawled. Evgeni was hinting at something.

His intelligence officer couldn’t completely keep the exasperated look on his face, though he quickly schooled his expression. “How could a Gundam get destroyed without actively participating in a battle?” he asked before answering his own question. “The answer is that he got in the way. Wing Zero destroyed that suit...Quatre destroyed that suit...and then the fighting stopped. Ask yourself what would cause you, as a soldier, to stop fighting in the middle of a battle? Over anything else, even in the face of your own death?”  
“The safety of one’s family?” Aleksandr offered skeptically.

Evgeni snapped his fingers and pointed to the older general. “Or a lover.”

Castonev looked at his intelligence general with doubt. “That’s not too far of a leap?”

“Think about it,” the man countered. “That modified Taurus most resembling Gundam 03 was the one that dragged Quatre’s off the first battlefield. It was also the one that gave him room to escape in the last one.” Castonev thumbed his beard thoughtfully. Evgeni wasn’t wrong concerning the events in the previous battles. “Every time Quatre has been close to getting killed by the Deboshir, Trowa has come to his rescue. That’s significant.”

“And you think the battle with the Mercurius, Vayeate, and Wing Zero is supporting proof that they have a relationship going on?” he asked.

“He hasn’t been sacrificing himself for anyone else,” Evgeni answered cooly.

He thought about it for a while. It was a tenuous thread at best, but it made a certain amount of sense. It was also enough of a stick to potentially dangle a carrot on. “Fine. That will be our working theory. When the pilots are brought in, let me know. I want to interrogate them myself. Now, what else do you have on this pilot?”

As the meeting continued, Castonev began to smile. He might have lost his pride and joy of a mobile suit, but he very well may have picked up something much more valuable.

______________________________________________________________

“We lost several of our drones getting this information,” Captain Carlisle said. Sitting at the conference table were all the important officers aboard the ship, including Lady Une, Sally Po, Heero, Duo, and himself. Rashid should be along as soon as his suit was docked. The Maquanacs had been instructed to rotate out of Pier 2 for arming their mobile suits. Being their leader, he should be in the first batch.

“It looks like the Eurussians are keeping the Taurus suits with them, though a cargo chopper was seen leaving the area not too long ago. It would make sense that Castonev would want such prized POW’s to be well guarded and close to him.”

“So they’re heading further inland?” asked Sally.

“Correct,” the Captain replied. “Any rescue plans we may attempt will have to be done well within Eurussian occupied territory and likely a highly fortified facility.”

“Castonev took over a hotel didn’t he?” Heero asked.

“Yes. Every report we have been getting from assets on the ground indicate that he took over the premier hotel in the city.”

“Cuz that’s not totally obnoxious,” muttered Duo. Quatre stared dejectedly at the papers in front of him. He knew what they said, even as they read like a foreign language to his eyes. It was becoming increasingly more difficult for him to focus the more he thought about Trowa in the hands of the likes of Castonev or that crazy pilot.

“We’re working on gathering more information. The Eurussians haven’t made any moves since the battle ended. We’re pretty much in a holding pattern, but things won’t stay that way,” he added. “Right now, I suggest you all get some rest if you can. We may need to send you guys out sooner than expected. Your mobile suits are being refitted, as are those of our new friends.”

With that, they were all dismissed. Quatre didn’t rise from his seat. Everyone left the room except his fellow Gundam pilots. Closest to the door, Duo shot Heero a concerned look. No doubt they both knew what was on his mind, but he really didn’t want to discuss it.

There was a lot of complicated history between himself and Trowa when it came to the guy’s safety on the battlefield. He’d never really forgiven himself for what he’d done to Trowa when he had first piloted Wing Zero. He’d almost killed him then. Trowa had once again sacrificed himself for his benefit. He might very well die for it too.

It seemed as if history was determined to repeat itself.

_______________________________________________________________

The stretch in his shoulders was shifting more toward the painful side of annoying as he sat in a decidedly too-plush chair. If he tilted back at all he felt like it might swallow him up and he’d never be able to get out of it and he needed to be ready to make a move if an opportunity presented itself. As it was, the ability to leave this hotel room had been taken away by the absence of an inside doorknob and being located roughly halfway up the towering building rendered jumping out the window in the hope of making an escape completely unfeasible.

He heard the sound of a key card. Smart to keep that function, he thought as the door opened. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Castonev himself enter the room. Two guards flanked him. _Even in handcuffs, they aren’t trusting me to be alone with him. Guess they aren’t totally incompetent._

“Trowa Barton.” His name came slowly and deliberately out of the Russian’s mouth. He bit back the urge to congratulate the man on getting one thing right over the course of the last week. He certainly sounded pretty cocky for a guy who up until recently had lost every point of his insurgency.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t seem to be good for your health.”

He tried to keep the surprise off his face, keep his expression neutral. The wicked flash behind Castonev’s eyes told him he hadn’t been completely successful. Castonev chuckled. “I thought so.” He walked closer, looking him up and down. “So the question becomes, what will you do to keep the both of you, or even just one of you, alive?”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Trowa didn’t trust himself to say anything that might inadvertently hinder their cause. Quatre would no doubt try to get both him and Wufei back. With Castonev pretty confident in his correct assumption, the odds of him expecting the same were high. That worried him. The Russian now had a hefty advantage.

“Or perhaps the better question is what will he do?”

_______________________________________________________________

Quatre, Heero, and Duo were sitting in the debriefing room talking amongst themselves on how to deal with Trowa and Wufei’s capture. The Maguanacs’ mobile suits were still not completely refitted for combat. Having just sustained two battles in which they had lost multiple units over the same land area without any shift in power left them with significantly decreased numbers. Taking into account that the Eurussian forces would have someone piloting the captured modified Taurus suits, Quatre figured that left them in a tight fight. The only redeeming aspect of the situation was that they had taken the Monstrosity out of commission. The main mechanical team was having a field day with it.

“Gundam pilots to the bridge. Gundam pilots to the bridge ” came the clear voice of Captain Carlisle over the speakers. The three friends exchanged concerned looks with each other before exiting the room and walking briskly in that direction.

Quatre automatically fell in behind the other two, staring at the floor as he contemplated the possibilities. He wasn’t sure what would require all three of them to be on the bridge with the commanders so soon. The only thing that came to mind was the dreaded scenario that ended in two body bags. He didn’t want to think of that.

He felt a cool shadow come up on his right. The intimidating frame of Rashid walked next to him. So Rashid was finally on board. Even if the Middle Eastern force couldn’t yet fight, it was a comfort to have his old confidante with him again. He had a feeling he might have to lean on his old friend to face what might come next.

“What could it be Master Quatre?” the big man asked, obviously trying to get him to focus. How the man knew him. Now was not the time for dwelling on negativity or letting his emotions get the better of him.

“Nothing good,” he replied, bringing his eyes back up.

As they approached the bridge, Quatre watched as the two officers guarding the entrance eyed Rashid suspiciously. He was new on board and had not been called to the bridge. Nor was he a Gundam pilot. The guards spoke briefly into their earpieces before reluctantly letting the four of them enter.

Lady Une was standing next to the Captain as they walked through the double doors. They immediately looked in their direction at the sound of their arrival. Both senior officers shook hands with Rashid as introductions were quickly passed around before getting straight to business. “We have a message from the Eurussian government,” the Captain said.

“From their government?” asked Duo in confusion. “They haven’t wanted to talk before. What could they possibly want now?”

“We expect it has to do with the capture of Trowa and Wufei.”

“How do you know,” Duo asked with suspicion.

“Because they want to speak directly to Quatre,” replied Lady Une with a hard look at the blonde.

“Me?” Quatre asked in shock. “Why me? I don’t have any control over combat.”

“It certainly is odd,” Lady Une admitted. “They asked for you by name. The fact that they know who you are specifically is concerning. They likely know who all of you are. We aren’t sure what they’re getting at with this maneuver.” She eyed Quate with a contemplative expression. “They refuse to speak to anyone else, so we have no choice but to allow you to negotiate with them. At least for now.”

Quatre’s heart felt like lead. He had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly why they wanted to deal with him directly. He wasn’t sure how they knew it or how he knew that they knew it, but they knew about Trowa. And they were going to force him to choose between saving the person he cared for the most and the tactical high ground the Preventers had so far won at great cost.

“We need proof of life if they bring Trowa and Wufei into the conversation,” Lady Une continued. “We also need to know what they want since they started this fight, what they want in order to bring this fighting to an end.”

“You can sit over here,” motioned the Captain, indicating a seat within the communications row. Quatre followed awkwardly and sat down without a word. The others were guided to a position against the back wall with instructions that they could stay, considering this directly affected them, as long as they were quiet.

A file was placed in front of him by a tall brunette woman in her mid-thirties as another individual put a portable communications piece around his ear.

“Consider this your intelligence briefing regarding Eurussia,” the brunette said. “We expect the leader, Mikhail Castonev, to speak with you directly. He is a career soldier. He has been a true patriot towards his homeland and his service record is impeccable. He is brilliant militaristically and politically, which explains how he rose to his nation’s highest office. He has no wife and no kids, but he does have a sister named Anya Kozlov. She married a Russian pilot, Aleksy, and had a son, Nikolaj, who would be in his mid-twenties now. After Aleksy was killed within Russian borders in a conflict with multiple military factions, it is confirmed that Anya took her son and moved into outer space sometime in AC 188. What became of them after that is unknown. We haven’t been able to locate either Anya or Nikolaj. We have no intelligence on whether they have kept in contact with Castonev or if they have anything to do with his current actions.”

“Now, Russia’s leaders have always tried to maintain or increase their power throughout the world and Castonev seems to continue that ideology. They were noted as shoring up their military armaments during the War with the Colonies, despite remaining out of the major conflicts between the various factions involved. They discarded what we surmise to be the majority of their weapons after the ESUN was created. Enough to make us think, at the time, that it was all of them.”

Quatre stared at the pictures of Castonev and his sister. The man looked like a bodybuilder with a beret. His eyes were such a dark gray they almost appeared black. It was the picture of a face you wouldn’t forget. Anya had been pretty in her youth at least, willowy and laughing, with those same dark eyes as her brother. There was no picture of Anya’s child.

His brain raced to keep up, filing away the information he thought he might need. His concentration was interrupted by a flashing light on the monitor. “Incoming message from Eurussia, Ma’am. Looks to be Castonev’s direct line,” one of the communications officers called out.

Lady Une met Quatre’s eyes for a moment before backing away to a less claustrophobic distance. “Don’t give him any room to solidify himself or his country and don’t promise anything,” Lady Une warned. “He might try to get you to agree to anything, so watch out for tricks.”

Quatre’s heart started to race. No doubt this man Castonev would try to barter something for the lives of two Gundam pilots with or without their mobile suits. Quatre had been in on some of his company’s most recent metaphorical boxing matches that occasionally occurred in the competitive business industry, but what he was about to do was on a whole different level.

Castonev was more than likely trying to play the sentimental card, expecting him to fold. He would have to assume this guy knew everything about him. It would make sense that he would expect a love-sick 17-year-old to roll over and do whatever it took to save his first lover from the chopping block.

Quatre pushed those thoughts away. They weren’t going to help get the guys back in one piece. This was a business deal. Plain and simple. On an even bigger stage than he had ever played previously. _If this is a business deal_ , he thought, _might as well act like it_. He positioned himself with his back straight against the cloth seat, forced his arms to rest casually on the armrests, hands clasped together, and crossed one leg over the other.

He thanked his lucky stars that he had bothered to change out of his mobile suit uniform and back into his typical three-piece suit during the lunch break Duo had called earlier. White silk vest on silver shirt and silver slacks. A picture of calm business professionalism. _Might as well look the part._

The communication officer with control of the line caught his attention, waiting for a go signal. Quatre took a steadying breath and nodded. The officer raised his hand in the air and counted him down the same way a producer would count down a TV anchor. The parallel was not lost on him.

Showtime.

The screen in front of him blinked and suddenly a stern face with those cold, gray eyes stared back at him. “Hello, Gundam pilot 04,” came a heavily accented voice. “Or should I call you Quatre Raberba Winner?”

“Quatre’s fine,” he replied. Firm and direct. “You have two of my guys.”

The man called Castonev smiled, reminding him of a poacher who just caught an exotic animal. “And you have the pride of my people’s ingenuity. Seems like a fair trade, no?”

 _Under the accent, this guy’s English is pretty good_ , he thought, wondering if there was something under there that he could exploit later. “If you thought it was a good trade you wouldn’t be calling.”

Catonev’s eyes glinted in sharp delight. “No doubt your mechanics have been taking a look, yeah?” he asked. “They will have taken pictures. Made diagrams. Copied the coding. Hardly seems like a fair trade.”

“You have two of my guys and their mobile suits. That’s four for you. One for us,” Quatre responded, emphasizing the numbers with his fingers. “No doubt you have taken pictures of our mobile suits. Made diagrams. Copied coding. Yeah?” he couldn’t help the bit of snark that accompanied his question.

Castonev laughed. Genuinely laughed. The sound sent a cold chill down his back. Quatre hoped he had schooled his expression enough to belie his surprise at the outburst. “You want your guys back. Yeah?”

Quatre took a breath. _Here we go._ “Depends on your offer.”

Castonev eyed Quatre searchingly. “Now, now, Quatre. Is that any way to treat your lover?”

Quatre’s heart felt like it would explode out of his chest. He had expected it, but still...being called out in relative public like that almost sent him into a panic. Castonev had planned that accusation to throw him off balance and, Quatre figured, to see if it stuck. He doubted Trowa would have said anything. The older pilot would have had to be tortured before he let anything that might jeopardize the ground Preventer had made up in the last couple of days. That included information that could be used for leverage. Wufei wouldn’t say anything either.

That left two options: either Castonev had some extraordinarily good spies on board the Axiom or, and this was much more likely, he was going off of some sort of intelligence gathering. He highly doubted the former and any information gleaned from the latter was ridiculously tenuous at best. Which meant Castonev was looking to get lucky and Quatre wasn’t about to let him have the satisfaction.

Now it was his turn to throw something against the wall and hope it stuck.

“How’s your nephew?” It was a gamble, he knew, but he had to say something so as not to tip the Russian off that he’d hit home. All too briefly, Castonev looked like he’d been slapped across the face.

It bought him time.

He took the opportunity to shift the conversation. “You’ve lost ground at every step of your insurgency. You’re losing, Castonev. What is it that you want?” he asked, throwing in a hint of impatience.

The Russian looked less than thrilled that his phishing experiment hadn’t panned out as he had expected. “We both lost a lot of men today. The Middle Eastern territories can remain yours. My forces have fortified our Chinese holdings. Leave things as they are and withdraw your troops from our new borders. Sign an agreement recognizing all newly seized territory and your men will go free.”

Quatre blinked. Was he serious? Let them dictate over the people they had just conquered? Did he really think they could let that stand? What he had done was illegal, not to mention amoral. “You’re joking, right?” he asked, obviously dumbfounded. He didn’t mind letting it show either.

“No,” replied Castonev. The rigidity in his posture and matter-of-factness told him the man was quite serious. “These are my terms.”

Quatre scowled. “You know those terms are ridiculous.”

Castonev had to know the ESUN would never be able to make such a deal. Within reason, the nation had every right to destroy him into the ground. The pitch was too high, even accounting for the weedling down terms experienced during negotiations.

 _He has to know that I can’t make any concessions on my own_ , Quatre thought to himself. _His big play here didn’t pan out like he expected. While we sit here and nurse our wounds, his forces will continue to reinforce Chinese territory. If we’re in negotiations, they will have the luxury of time that we don’t have._

 _I guess there’s no choice other than to play the hand_ , he thought grudgingly. If he was going to walk away from Trowa, he was going to have to sell it.

Quatre gathered up more bluster than he thought he could reasonably have. He gave the Russian the most withering stare he could manage, hoping he looked irritated enough to be convincing.

“If you’re not going to treat these negotiations seriously, we’re done here,” he said, channeling the best imitation of his father he could produce before reaching forward and turning off the screen.

The room was silent and Quatre blinked at the dark screen. _Holy shit. I just hung up on him. He has Trowa and Wufei...and I hung up on him._

“Well that didn’t go quite as planned,” Lady Une said flatly. Quatre barely registered it. He thought he might just collapse right there in his seat. He felt the comforting weight of Rashid’s hand on his shoulder. The big man gave a gentle squeeze.

“What do we do now?” asked Duo hesitantly. Quatre could imagine he hadn’t expected him to do what he just did.

Quatre took a deep breath to steady his fraying nerves. He wasn’t sure how long he had until he came unraveled. “We make a rescue plan while we wait for his reply.” He stood up and faced the rest of the room, causing Rashid to let go of his shoulder. If he didn’t stand up now, he might not be able to at all.

He was acutely aware of all eyes on him. He looked directly at Lady Une.

“He already admitted to fortifying China. It could be a ploy, but I doubt it. He doesn’t have the manpower to hold what territory he has and make an offensive strike against us, which means we know where his troops will be. He might not have struck out completely, but he’s not as well off as he had hoped. He was banking on me making a deal. Now he’s off balance, so he’s got to regroup and think. We have a small window, but it might be possible to rescue Trowa and Wufei while simultaneously taking out the rest of his forces.”

“16 hours?” asked Lady Une.

Quatre met her gaze and nodded. “Roughly, I would think. I would expect 12, but he might add a few more just to make us nervous.”

“Alright then,” she said before turning back to the officers on the bridge. “I will need the lead intelligence officers regarding the Chinese and Eurussian regions, all ship captains, the lead mechanic, and the remaining Gundam pilots to be in the debriefing room in one hour.”

Quatre moved toward the door. He couldn’t feel his footfalls even though he knew he was walking forward. The sounds around him were muted. He could hear Lady Une continue speaking in the distance, but it sounded as if he was listening from underwater. He felt as if he could almost see himself walking away from the bridge. Walking away from throwing Trowa and Wufei a lifeline. He off-handedly wondered if this is what an out of body experience was like.

Heero’s voice sliced through the haze in Quatre’s mind as he walked past the former pilot of Wing Zero. “It was the right call,” he said in that monotone voice of his. Quatre stopped. Their eyes met. Aquamarine and deep indigo.

Heero’s voice echoed in his head _“Whatever it is that you do do, can’t get in the way of what we’re trying to accomplish”_.

“Let’s just hope I didn’t kill them,” he said before leaving the bridge.


	17. Chapter 17

Quatre walked down the hall and around the corner. He needed to find someplace to be alone for a while. He had less than an hour to pull himself together. In order to do that, he needed a private space to decompress.

He could feel his whole body shaking. His legs started to buckle. He caught himself, pressing his back against the wall but even that couldn’t keep him on his feet. Slowly he sank to the floor. _So much for making it to my room_ , he thought as he rested his forearms on his knees and put his head in his hands. At least no one seemed to be coming this direction.

His thoughts tumbled around in his head like marbles. He was so focused inward that he didn’t even notice Rashid’s presence until his confidante took a seat on the floor right next to him. He could feel the warmth radiating off him. Despite his need for some alone time, having Rashid nearby had always given him a sense of stability. This time was no different. The man was truly his rock.

He sighed and rested his head against the cool metal wall. “That went well,” he said with a huff and a weak smile, glancing over at his guardian.

Rashid leveled a neutral expression back at him. “Are you okay?” he asked. His deep voice rumbled from his chest. Quatre had always imagined that mountains would sound like Rashid if they could talk.

“Honestly...no,” he admitted before breaking eye contact and staring at his hands. His stomach tightened as the nerves came back to life. It was Rashid sitting next to him. He shouldn’t feel this nervous...or nervous at all. “He wasn’t wrong, you know. When he threw that at me,” he said quietly. “He was shooting a sniper’s target with buckshot hoping for a hit...but he wasn’t wrong.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Quatre’s head snapped up, letting slip just how surprised he was at that. He stared at Rashid. The smile he saw on his friend’s face was soft and gentle. “You’ve never hidden your emotions,” the big man explained. “You’re not a very deceptive person.”

He was a little shocked at Rashid’s admission, though in retrospect it made sense. If his friends at school saw through him after one evening with Trowa, he must have been painfully obvious to Rashid over the course of the last couple of years. The nerves in his stomach eased their grip just a little.

“You were concerned?” Rashid asked. The amused smile disappeared, replaced by concern and hint of sadness. That look kicked him in the gut and the claw around his stomach squeezed once again. Rashid had deserved more faith from him. For the first time in over a year, he’d let the man down. He felt the embarrassment rise in his cheeks and suddenly the cold wall didn’t feel so cold anymore.

“Trowa was. I’ll admit it wore off on me, but honestly, I never thought we’d even have to have a conversation.”

Then it was Rashid’s turn to look down into his hands. He could feel the awkward nervousness roll off the man. It was a foreign emotion coming from him and Quatre wasn’t sure what to expect, but if this was going to be the new par for course, he was certainly going to end up with an anxiety disorder.

Rashid cleared his throat uncomfortably. The sound caused Quatre to brace emotionally. “Speaking of conversations…” The big man’s voice trailed off, unable to finish that sentence.

He stared at Rashid dumbly for several seconds. “What…” he asked flatly. His brain had suddenly gone fuzzy again. For some reason whatever Rashid was trying to say wasn’t making sense to him. Comprehension floated about his head like a moth caught in a jar.

Rashid sighed audibly. “Look Quatre, you’re at that age…”

Lightbulb. On.

His eyes grew wide as he realized where this conversation was trying to go. He put his hands up and leaned slightly away from the big man. The movement caused Rashid to peel his eyes from his own large hands to Quatre’s horrified expression. “We are not having this conversation.” The tone in his voice offered no room for options.

“But…” The pained look of parental responsibility was clear as day on Rashid’s face.

“No,” he reiterated, shaking his head. “Uh uh...not...just...no.”

“Everyone needs to know…” Rashid pressed, looking increasingly less comfortable.

“We’ve already had sex ed,” he replied, forcing the words out as he referred to school. He felt as uncomfortable as Rashid looked. “We have Google and I know what a trustworthy information source looks like.”

Parental instincts must have kicked back in, overriding the awkwardness, because Rashid tilted his head and gave him an annoyed look. “Master Quatre…”

“Are you gay?” He asked, louder than he’d intended, his voice cracking towards the end. He was getting slightly panicked at Rashid’s persistence. This was not a conversation he was going to have with the man who had become a second father to him.

Rashid went quiet, a slight look of shock on his face after Quatre had raised his voice at him. They both knew the answer to that question.

“Then it’s safe to say I definitely know more about this than you do,” he said with a much softer tone. God bless the man, but some conversations you just don’t have with parents. “Trust me, we do not _need_ to have any kind of conversation.”

Rashid continued to stare at him. Quatre waved his hand in a downward motion. “Parental veil of ignorance,” he half teased. He needed to get back onto safe ground.

“I’m pretty sure that’s how that one girl in your grade got pregnant last year,” Rashid countered. The disapproval in his voice was thick.

Quatre rolled his eyes. “Madeline got pregnant because her boyfriend was a tool.”

“On the bright side, at least our little Quatre won’t be getting anyone pregnant anytime soon.”

He and Rashid looked up in the direction of the humorous voice. Duo was peeking around the corner with that wickedly playful smile of his. “Hey Duo,” Quatre greeted mildly. Leave it to that guy to show up at just the right time to make a joke.

“Lady Une had food brought up to the conference room if you guys want some,” he said with a jerk of his head, indicating the way they’d come. “Might be the last full meal we’ll have for a bit. The assumption is that we’ll be heading out as soon as plans are made.”

Food didn’t sound like a good idea to his stomach, but he rose with Rashid anyway and followed Duo back down the hall. “Now who’s getting pregnant,” the long-haired pilot asked. _Ah_ , Quatre thought, _so he had been listening_.

“Apparently not Master Quatre,” Rashid quipped. Duo burst out laughing, slowing his pace enough to walk next to the big man. Quatre glared at both his guardian and their eavesdropper in slight annoyance as he passed them. Rashid wasn’t particularly prone to attempt humor, certainly not at his expense.

“Neither of you are funny,” he said, keeping his voice neutral as he turned around, walking backward a few steps to point between the two of them. He faced forward again, putting his hands in his pockets.

“At least he’s focused again,” he heard Duo mutter to the big man behind him. Damn right he was. Those guys were going to pay for taking Trowa and Wufei.

____________________________________________________________

The vast majority of the necessary individuals were already present when they arrived at the conference room. Rashid said goodbye to the two of them, saying something about talking to the rest of the Maguanacs. Quatre paused near the doorway. “You’re not coming?” he asked.

The big man shook his head. “I wasn’t invited to this meeting.” Fair point. He hadn’t.

“I’m sure it was just an oversight,” he replied. “They let you onto the bridge with me.”

Rashid shook his head. “I really should get back to the others. You can make our plans. You have before.”

Quatre watched as the man turned around and walked away, then took a deep breath before following Duo into the room. Heero was going over what appeared to be troop analyses. Their eyes met once their presence was noticed. “You okay?” the quiet pilot asked as they sat down, Duo taking the seat in between them.

“I’m fine,” he replied. His tone was more clipped than it probably should have been, but he was in no mood to tiptoe around people’s emotions. His or anyone else’s.

Lady Une walked in at exactly the hour mark. After looking around the room, making sure everyone was present, she turned the vid screen on. “Thanks for being here everyone,” she said. “We have one more guest with us.”

Vice Foreign Minister Relena Dorilan’s face filled the frame. “Hello everyone.”

“Hey lady!” Duo’s excited voice carried over everyone else’s. The smile it provoked was warm and friendly.

“Miss Relena is on the call because she has been working on Eurussian-ESUN relations prior to Castonev’s militaristic actions.” She looked critically around the room. “For anyone who doesn’t know, we’re here to discuss rescue options for the two captured Gundam pilots.” She paused, resting her gaze on him for a time before continuing. “But we will also discuss _what exactly_ Castonev’s plans are as that information will play heavily into both the rescue mission as well as our overall strategy to bring him down. With that being said, our first order of business is to decide what Castonev is up to.”

The conversation that followed was long, longer than it should have been in his opinion, with many theories thrown about. None really made sense or fit quite right, though he had to admit that none of the scenarios that came to his own mind were much better.

It was Heero who figured it out. “He’s got the Prime Minister.” The room went quiet and all eyes turned to him, including Quatre’s. “Probably his family too.”

“Why?” Duo asked. “I mean, I get the whole hostages thing, but if he already has control…”

“He has a daughter,” Relena added. “Late teens, early twenties.”

“What’s your point?” asked Captain Carlisle, looking up at her on the screen. Quatre felt a prickling sensation run up his spine. Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting?

“If the Prime Minister declares their own independence from the ESUN and arranges a marriage between his daughter and Castonev, not only do the Eurussians have a stronger claim, but also more political power as well. China is still an economic powerhouse.”

 _Well shit_. That made a whole lot of sense. He felt rather dense for not seeing it himself.

“Alright, so assume that is the plan,” Lady Une said. “We have to go in and get them.”

“We could do it at the same time we get Trowa and Wufei,” he offered. All eyes turned on him this time. “Think about,” he said. “Castonev is a control freak. He’s going to want his most precious bargaining chips close, which means they’ll all be in the hotel with him. Different places, certainly, but it’s still the same self-contained area.”

“And you think we can get both groups out at the same time?” Lady Une asked. “That’s a pretty big gamble considering we haven’t broken their line yet. Nor do we have any confirmed sightings of any of our targets.”

He looked at the lead mechanical engineer. “How soon can the Maguanac Corp be fully armed?”

“Within the next couple of hours, maybe sooner if we push it. A third are already supplied and ready to go.”

Quatre looked back to Lady Une. he leaned forward in his seat. This could actually work to their advantage. “Holding them anywhere else doesn’t make sense. They’ll be there somewhere. We can do it simultaneously with an attack on their border. My guess is that the Eurussians retreated before they could get a suit count on the Maguanacs. Odds are they don’t know how their number. 15 can stay and spread out here in order to look like there are more of them than there are. That leaves 25 to come with Heero, Duo, myself and Sally.”

Sally smirked, with her arms crossed in front of her she shifted in her seat, draping one leg over the other. “Thanks for not leaving me out.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, glancing in her direction before turning his attention back to the former Colonel. “15 of those can offer cover, which leaves 10 that can split into two groups of five, plus us four. One group can go after the Prime Minister and his family, the other can go after Trowa and Wufei.”

Lady Une put a hand on her hip. “Thanks for the math lesson,” she quipped sarcastically. He ignored her snark.

“We’re all used to guerrilla tactics, so small splinter groups are well within our comfort zones and the Maguanacs fought with us in 195. They know how we Gundam pilots operate. No learning curve.” He added the last bit after a slight pause, feeling as if the head of Preventer hadn’t fully been sold on the idea.

Lady Une looked at Captain Carlisle who mulled the plan over, threading his fingers through his facial hair thoughtfully. “What if they try to negotiate again?” he asked.

Everyone looked at Relena’s picture on the screen. She smiled. “Of course I’ll do it. It would make sense considering I was in negotiations with them previously.”

Lady Une looked to the Captain once again who nodded his approval. “Alright, that’s the plan. Everyone…” She was interrupted by a quick knock on the door which opened to reveal a particularly self-conscious petty officer.

“The Captain’s First Mate suggests that you turn on the news Ma’am,” was all she said before removing herself and closing the door behind her. Lady Une quickly split the screen. Relena’s image shrunk while the Global News Network took the remaining half.

The Prime Minister was standing next to Castonev and making some kind of speech. The banner headline was all that they needed to see. Chinese Prime Minister Denounces ESUN, Announces Political Marriage with Eurussia.

“Well that happened,” Duo deadpanned.

“Doesn’t change our timeline,” Heero said. The guy looked completely unphased. “He’ll just have more to talk about with Relena when he calls again.”

“Alright,” Lady Une said. “Report to your respective stations. The mission will begin once the Maguanac suits are ready to go.”

_______________________________________________________________

After meeting up with Rashid and making the appropriate plans for the mission, he’d felt the need for some more alone time, reset his head, and prepare himself mentally for the multitude of possibilities they may be flying into.

Quatre looked at his reflection in the mirror after stepping out of the shower. Dark, stormy eyes stared back at him with a hard expression. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he thought he saw fear underneath it all. Fear of failure. Fear of losing Trowa.

He pushed such thoughts out of his mind as he got dressed. They wouldn’t be helpful. This was not the mission to be dwelling on negatives. Instead, he let the anger dominate his emotions. He was angry because after two years he and Trowa had finally started something. He was angry that after only a few days Trowa had been taken from him. And he was angry that after two years of relative peace, some people were still more than happy to continue to destroy rather than build.

He channeled that anger, pushing away all the fear and doubts that nagged at the back of his brain. What was left was an iron resolve fueled by a smoldering fury. The Eurussians had two Gundam pilots and the Chinese Prime Minister and his family, crucial hostages certainly. They thought they’d one-upped Preventer and the ESUN. Castonev had thought he’d one-upped _him_.

They were about to find out just how mistaken they were.

Quatre grabbed his Preventer jacket off the bed, throwing it over his shoulder as he went, and made his way down to the docking bay of Pier 2. The Maguanac’s suits had all been supplied, checked, and greenlit for combat.

Sally Po, himself, Rashid, and four other Maguanacs were on the TW team, cleverly named for their task in rescuing the captured Gundam pilots. Heero, Duo, Maguanac commander Ahmad, and four others had been assigned to the equally cleverly named PM team. Abdul, the Middle Eastern group’s second in command, would also accompany them, leading the contingent of 15 to handle their cover fire while Auda, another commander, would stay with the rear 25.

It had been decided that their two rescue groups would be dropped onto the top of the hotel via helicopters, leaving ten practically new mobile suits to be used. The idea hadn’t sat well with some of the guys, but eventually, the Corp had agreed to allow Preventer’s top ten pilots join them in combat, though the commanders’ suits would still be piloted by a Maguanac soldier. To their credit, the Preventer pilots had been more than understanding of the sentimentality behind that particular decision.

His own modified Taurus would be piloted by Preventer Ace, Connor Bannon. The man was in his early thirties. He’d been a career soldier with the Alliance, then OZ and eventually the Treize Faction, though he’d avoided the Mariemaia incident. In the two years of relative peace, he’d pursued his doctorate in astrophysics.

The guy was crazy smart and had picked up the finer details to Quatre’s modified Taurus quickly when he’d given the guy the rundown of it earlier. The suit wasn’t his old Gundam, Sandrock, but he still felt the twinge of jealousy at someone else piloting a suit specifically tailored for him. It was in good hands though. He was confident Bannon would make the most of it.

As he walked into the hangar, he could see many of the Maguanacs completing final pre-mission tasks. Like him, they were all in Preventer uniforms of light gray button-downs, black pants, and their signature brown and dark blue jacket. As an auxiliary unit, the Gundam pilots had gotten away without truly adhering to the dress code, but this was different. Lady Une wanted everyone involved in this operation to be clearly marked as Preventers.

Two helicopters were occupying the space on the ground that would have been occupied by a single mobile suit. Rashid was walking toward him with what looked like a pair of single ear pieces with a microphone attached, identical to the one he had worn while on the bridge. He put his jacket on as he wondered why the big man had two. The guy was already wearing one himself.

“Are we ready to go?” he asked as he looked up at Rashid, picking up one of the offered pieces and adjusting it next to his face.

“Almost,” the big man said. He heard the heavy breathing of a woman behind him. He half turned as Sally Po slowed down from her sprint as she reached them.

“I was afraid you’d leave without me,” she said with a smile, hefting a moderately sized bag over her shoulder as she took the other offered earpiece. _Ah_ , he realized. _That’s why there was two_.

“What’s in the bag,” he asked as the three of them walked down to the far end of the scaffold to a utility elevator that would take them to the ground.

“Medical supplies,” she responded. She didn’t have to say anything more.

“You have EMT training?” he asked in surprise. He hadn’t known that.

“I’m a doctor,” she replied offhandedly, smiling at the shocked expression on his face. “I was initially a medical officer with the Alliance.”

“And yet you do this,” Rashid commented. The curiosity in his voice was noticeable.

Quatre couldn’t help the queasy feeling that sank to the bottom of his stomach. He couldn’t help thinking about his sister, Irea. She was a doctor also. After saving his life during the war in 195, she had been severely injured in the incident that had killed their father. It had taken her several months to fully recover.

But Sally wasn’t his sister and the situation was nothing like the last time. They were still going into danger though and he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had crept up on him. He pushed the feeling away, concentrating once again on the anger that had so focused him earlier.

Sally smiled wider as the lift jolted to a stop. “War tends to change the trajectory of things.”

As they exited the lift, he noticed Heero, Duo and their group getting ready to board their flight. Duo waved them over with an exuberant smile. They met in between the helicopters. Thankfully the rotors hadn’t started yet, so they could hear each other without yelling.

“The front line just began combat,” Heero said. “We’ll head out in a few minutes. In roughly half an hour Relena will attempt to contact Castonev if he hasn’t already begun negotiating.”

“Alright,” Quatre replied. “You guys all set?”

Heero nodded. “We’ll be fine.” Quatre looked over to Rashid, who appeared to be having a few final words with Ahmad.

Everyone parted ways and climbed aboard their respective helicopters once the chopper pilots showed up. Per instructions of the pilots, everyone in their team strapped into a parachute in case things went sideways and they had to ditch the bird.

The flight there was rather uneventful, much to Quatre’s relief and surprise. No one on the front lines seemed to have noticed them pass into Chinese territory. The first hurdle though was expected to be the easiest. Shielding the helicopters from sight long enough to get them above the hotel was expected to be the nerve-wracking part.

The majority of the Maquanac contingent that came with them broke off several miles away from the city, drawing the attention of the Eurussian forces stationed in the capital. A smaller group continued with their two helicopters, acting as protectors if necessary.

The hotel wasn’t hard to distinguish. Tall, beautiful, and all glass, the thing shone like a beacon as the sun reflected off its sides. Quatre’s heart began to race at the sight of it. Somewhere in there was Trowa and Wufei.

As they got close, multiple mobile suits appeared from seemingly nowhere. They immediately opened fire, forcing the helicopters to bank sharply in order to avoid getting hit. The Maguanacs took the fight right to them. Crouched next to the open side of the helicopter, Quatre watched with pride and a heavy heart. He knew they would always throw themselves in harm's way for him.

Quatre felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. Rashid’s eyes met his own as he tore his gaze away from the fighting and looked over his shoulder. “They wouldn’t have it any other way,” the big man yelled in his ear. Between the sound of the rotors and the heavy artillery fire, speaking at a normal level was impossible.

Another unexpected sharp bank caused everyone to lose their balance. Rashid’s hand slid off his shoulder in an effort to keep himself from falling over completely and Quatre was forced to hold onto a cargo strap to keep from losing his own and potentially falling out the other side. Adrenaline kicked in, sharpening his mind into a razor’s focus. He tossed a look over his shoulder, allowing him to do a quick head count. Everyone was still there. Holding on to something for dear life, but at least no one had fallen out from that maneuver.

Gunfire whistled past them. This time they didn’t get lucky. Quatre heard the metallic _pling_ _pling_  sound as bullets hit the aircraft. More than that would be required to take it down though.

Another bank put him in a position to watch as Heero’s team successfully landed on the hotel roof. Their helicopter seemed to have avoided any damage so far. He hoped their luck would hold.

More gunfire in their direction caused their helicopter to rise in the air and maneuver carefully. From the angles, he guessed the pilot was trying to hide in the sun, at least long enough to allow them to make their drop.

A hard jolt from the rear caused the whole aircraft to buck in the air. _I think we just got hit with a missile_ , he thought, quickly looking to the back. He could see black smoke plume into the sky as the helicopter dipped, rose, and tipped at odd angles. _Definitely a missile!_

He looked over to Rashid and yelled over the noise. “We’re going to have to ditch!” He really didn’t think the big man heard him all that well, but the message was clear. Heero’s ride was already starting to bug out, leaving the area above the hotel available for a landing.

Somehow the pilot was able to keep the aircraft hovering long enough for everyone to jump onto the roof. Having been the furthest individual from the drop side, he was the last to exit. Just as he was about to jump, a violent force hit the nose of the helicopter, shearing off the front of the machine.

Quatre’s eyes went wide in horror at the sudden loss of life right before the dead machine tipped onto its side, rolled over the edge of the roof, and began hurtling toward the ground with him still in it.

His mind raced with options. The ground was getting closer with every millisecond and there were no real options to safely disengage from the falling helicopter. The rotors had stopped, but they could still tear him apart if he hit one.

With a silent prayer, he let go of his handhold and dropped out of the helicopter’s side. The ground was coming up to him fast. He knew he needed to pull his chute if he wanted to have any chance of surviving a fall from this height, but he had to give himself enough time to get clear of the aircraft. Quatre looked up, then looked down, and made a quick calculation before looking up again.

Then he pulled.

The sharp jolt let him know that at least the chute had opened properly. Quickly, he banked to the side, outward and away from the falling deathtrap from above. He felt the whoosh go past with barely any room to spare. He felt the dip and rise as the air current caught his wing, but thankfully, it didn’t suck him down.

He looked down after hearing the gut wrenching tear and subsequent explosion as the machine connected with cold, hard pavement. The wreckage was a burning heap of metal. With a heavy heart, he guided himself around the far side of the building. It might have been a missile that had taken out the helicopter, but they had been found out much sooner than they had hoped and troops would be along shortly to deal with the intruders that they were.

Quatre set himself gently down on the ground next to the underground garage and quickly extricated himself from the chute, leaving it where it was. He had no more use for it and time was critical. He put a hand to his earpiece. Rashid would need to know he was okay and they could make a plan to meet up. Only his earpiece wasn’t there. Quatre cursed. He must have lost it during the craziness.

 _Great._ Now he was alone in enemy territory. Everyone else from both teams would be slowly working their way down the hotel levels. He was going to have to work his way up. _Fine_ , he thought. _If I can get to the elevator without getting caught, I might be able to rendezvous with Rashid and the others._

Quatre pulled out the gun at his hip. At least he still had that. Slowly and carefully, he moved forward, watching his surroundings as he went.


	18. Chapter 18

Quatre looked around cautiously, gun at the ready in his hands. The underground garage was dark. What lights there were threw deceiving shadows everywhere. Though deserted, there were enough cars and cement pillars to offer cover for an enemy to hide behind. His pulse pounded in his ears as he strained to listen for any indication that he wasn’t alone.

This wasn’t a good situation to be in. He hadn’t intended on landing on this side of the building or being forced to do so without backup. Castonev’s forces must have planned for an attempt like this. There was no other reason for the sheer number of forces that had surrounded this particular building.

Slowly, he crossed the garage floor, using what cover he could find. He could clearly see the glass wall that made up the garage floor of the hotel. Through the glass, he could see both the elevator and the escalators that would normally be full of visitors, tourists and locals alike. Instead, they were empty and lifeless. Castonev might be okay with causing a bloody coup, but he had at least freed all of the hotel guests before taking it over.

He glanced around, checking his surroundings. It seemed safe. There was no indication so far that he had company. He took a steadying breath and stepped out from his cover, gun leading.

“What do we have here?” English words, Russian accent. _Fuck._ Quatre stopped, frozen in place. Ice ran through his veins as his heart rate ratcheted up to an almost panicked tempo. A pit dropped into his stomach as a figure came into view.

The man was tall and muscular with dark hair, steel gray eyes, and a Eurussian uniform. He was on the young side too. Maybe in his mid-twenties. Sharp, chiseled features accented his angular body and Quatre would have found him attractive if not for the Glock pointed at his face. He knew who this was. “Kozlov,” he greeted. His hands tensed around his own gun.

The man smiled, looking like a wolf who had gotten in with the sheep. “Quatre Winner,” he replied as he stopped right in front of him. Quatre felt the heat from his stare despite the distance that separated them. “Also known as Gundam Pilot 04.” Kozlov continued. “My uncle was quite disappointed that you would not be the one to continue negotiations.”

Quatre shrugged, the movement loose and casual despite how tightly wound the rest of him was. “They thought I botched it the first time, so they benched me.”

Kozlov laughed. A sharp, bitter thing. “Come now, Quatre. No lies. We’re all comrades here.” That predatory smile flashed again and a sinking dread settled deep inside him. This was going to end badly. He scanned the area as best he could without moving his head. There was cover available, but nothing close enough to keep him from getting shot first. Though odds were he might not have a choice but to chance it.

“What do you want?” he asked tersely. He wasn’t in the mood for games, especially not with Kozlov. He shifted his feet in a direction that would allow him to launch himself to the side. He hoped Kozlov wouldn’t notice.

The Russian’s face fell into a hideous snarl a moment before the gun fired and he just wasn’t fast enough to dodge.

The force of the bullet hitting him whipped his shoulder backward and, twisting from the momentum, the rest of him followed. He heard his gun clatter off to the side, well out of reach. Fuck! The air in his lungs had been bulldozed out of him. He imagined this is what it would feel like if he’d just gotten plastered by one of those American linebackers. Laying on his back he tried to pull air into his lungs. Any thought of diving for cover or getting away from Kozlov fled as the Eurussian came into view, kneeling beside him on the cold cement.

Kozlov pressed the cool dark metal of his pistol against Quatre’s cheek and forced him to turn his head to the side. A chill ran down his spine as Kozlov dragged the muzzle down along his jawline until it was under his chin, which he then tipped upward, exposing Quatre’s neck. “What a pretty little thing you are.”

Quatre’s eyes widened in shock and fear. He hadn’t quite expected that and it didn’t sound at all good. Worst case scenarios played themselves out in his mind and fear turned to anger. “I thought you Russians hated gays,” he replied with as much snap as he could muster, but the effect was lost as he was forced to concentrate on dragging more air into his lungs. The shocked feeling in his chest was beginning to devolve into a fiery pain, making it difficult to concentrate.

Kozlov ran his gun back along his jaw and down his neck, where he paused, pressing the weapon against his jugular. Quatre’s eyes drooped as he focused on breathing. The pressure against his major artery caused his pulse to flutter and not in a good way. He was getting light headed and the pain in his chest was heating up.

Kozlov released the pressure on his neck, dragging the gun down to the bullet hole in his chest, and jabbing. Hard. Quatre let out strained cry at the sudden jolt of pain. Burning white light seared across his vision and fogged his mind. Tremors shook his body in the aftermath. He thought he heard Kozlov chuckle.

“What I hate more than gays,” Kozlov said languidly, drawing his gun further down Quatre’s torso until it rested against his lower right side. “Is one that steals my mobile suit.” Quatre met Kozlov’s eyes through his own blurry ones. He expected it mere seconds before it happened. Kozlov pulled the trigger.

The pain was excruciating. Fire tunneled through him a second time, forcing another breathless shout from his burning lungs. Tears of pain fell from the corners of his eyes as he gasped, desperately trying to pull in more air. Every breath he took rattled and was harder to take than the last. _I guess he will kill me after all_ , he thought bitterly.

Apparently, the Russian wasn’t quite done with his sick game. Kozlov continued to scrape his gun across his abdomen in a meandering fashion before pushing the muzzle right above the button on his pants. If Kozlov shot him there, he’d likely be paralyzed for the rest of his life, if he even survived this encounter. The thought swirled around in his hazed mind.

He couldn’t reach his gun, even if he knew where it had landed. They were alone. He’d been shot twice. He could feel the precious blood leaving his body and the pain in his chest and torso flooded his senses, making a cognizant thought almost impossible.

Again, Quatre forced himself to focus on bringing air into his damaged lungs. Not much else he could do, but wait for Kozlov’s gun again.

His body startled involuntarily as a shot rang out. No searing hot pain followed. He felt, more than saw, Kozlov collapse to the ground next to him. He couldn’t tell if the man was alive or dead.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard someone call his name.

______________________________________________________________________

The group made it to the escalators without too much trouble. A few firefights, but nothing Rashid, Sally Po, and the other four Maguanacs couldn’t handle. Reports from the other Middle Eastern fighting corp currently in combat indicated that Quatre had safely landed near the underground garage, which was a part of their evacuation plan, so they expected to meet him along the way.

So far things were going pretty smoothly. Sally, who had come on this mission to act as a medic, had been pleasantly surprised that neither he nor Wufei had been injured or mistreated during their capture. Their group of eight had moved quickly and now that they had made it to the escalators, Trowa was beginning to wonder where Quatre was. They should have joined up by now.

Sally Po, Wufei, and himself made their way down the long flight of mechanical stairs surrounded by a circle of Maguanac soldiers. As they made it roughly halfway down, he could begin to see the underground garage. Within the silence of their decent, Rashid’s gasp of surprise was enough to make them all pause. “Master Quatre!”

Trowa had to crouch from his position in order to see. Quatre and Kozlov were standing mere feet apart, guns trained on each other. It seemed that whatever invisible force held him in place on the stairs, also had a firm grip on everyone else. No one moved. They hardly even breathed as they watched the scene unfold before them.

Their voices didn’t carry through the glass, but the two pilots were obviously trading words. Kozlov was getting angry. He felt his heart hit the floor. _Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it_ , he prayed silently.

He jumped in place as the sound from Kozlov’s gun resounded throughout the cement walls. By the gasps, shouts, and the sound of many feet on mechanical stairs, so did many others. He watched in horror as Quatre was flung backward, his gun fell and skittered out of range. Kozlov advanced.

As a force, they were moving again, rushing down the remaining steps in order to reach Quatre. As he went, Trowa watched Kozlov. The guy was kneeling next to Quatre’s prone form, obscuring him from view. He could see the guy’s mouth moving, saying something. He was doing something with his gun too.

Suddenly Quatre’s body spasmed, his back arching and legs kicking in an involuntary reaction. Again, no sound came through the glass, but Trowa could imagine the painful cry that no doubt accompanied the violent movement. _What the hell?!_

He glanced down in front of him. They were almost to the bottom. Almost to Quatre. He looked back. His view was getting better as they descended. He saw Kozlov drag the muzzle of his gun over Quatre’s torso. The movement was agonizingly slow, punctuated occasionally by quick jabs.

 _He’s torturing him._ The realization horrified him. Ice settled into his core along with a burning anger.

He nearly tripped over himself when the next shot shattered the stillness that surrounded them. Muted though it was, Quatre’s shout of pain reached them through the glass. Thankfully they were at the bottom, through the large glass doors, and running to Quatre’s aid.

Someone shouted “Master Quatre!”. Kozlov paused, the muzzle of his gun pressing against the Quatre’s abdomen, right above his belt. A gun went off, he didn’t know whose, and Kozlov collapsed to the ground. His unseeing gray eyes stared out beneath a small, bloody hole in his forehead.

Trowa raced towards Quatre, his eyes wide in fear and his heart threatening to tear through his chest at the sight of him lying there. His long legs allowed him to outdistance the others. He almost stumbled as he approached Quatre’s prone form.

The air threatened to leave him as he took stock of Quatre’s injuries. A bullet to the upper left chest and another in the lower right torso. And Kozlov had been about to hit him dead center right above the hips before someone had called Quatre’s name, distracting Kozlov enough to put a bullet in the guy’s head.

Quatre’s eyes were open, though their view seemed far away, and he was breathing way too shallowly and with a disturbing wheeze. He dropped to his knees next to Quatre and immediately pressed both hands against the hole in his side. A small cry escaped Quatre’s lips.

The sound tightened his heart. It seemed to wake Quatre up a bit though. Trowa watched as Quatre’s eyes refocused on him. “Trowa…” His fingers twitched, probably trying to grip a gun he no longer had.

“Stay with me, Quatre,” he told him. His voice sounded stronger than he felt.

Rashid came up alongside them, knelt near Quatre’s shoulder, and shed his vest, pressing it against the wound there. A shaky hiss was the only reaction from Quatre to indicate he was cognizant enough to feel it. Trowa's heart tumbled before it sank into the pavement. Quatre was pale and his eyes were drooping closed. Rashid gently propped Quatre against his knees, hoping the elevation would ease his breathing. Fear raced through him. If Quatre fell asleep now, he wasn't going to wake back up.

Seconds later Sally Po arrived at his side. “He’s going into shock,” she said to no one in particular. “Quatre. Quatre, I need you to stay awake.” She called out to him as she dug through her bag. Quatre’s eyes flickered before partially opening, but his eyes were once again unfocused. He was beginning to gasp for air. Moving quickly, she placed an oxygen mask over his face and hooked it up to a small canister. “I need you to stay with us Quatre, okay?” she told him.

Somewhere behind him he heard Wufei. “The Preventer medical helo is on its way. Should be here in a few minutes.” Trowa looked down at his hands that were desperately trying to stem the loss of Quatre’s lifeblood. The warm red fluid pooled under his palms and ran in rivulets down Quatre’s side. He was losing too much. The helicopter might not make it in time. A touch of panic settled in his chest, forcing himself to take a calming breath. Losing control wouldn’t help.

He looked to Sally. The former OZ medical officer was working on getting an IV hooked up. “Someone hold this,” she called out, holding up the large bag of saline. One of the nearby Maguanacs stepped over and held it up with trembling hands. Trowa glanced over, he didn’t remember this guy’s name, but his face was as pale as Rashid’s and probably his own.

He looked back down at Quatre. The fluids seemed to be helping. He was waking up more, his eyelids not drooping nearly as much, and they had a look of comprehension and fear. He wasn’t gasping anymore, but his breathing was still difficult. _He knows it’s bad._

He heard Sally’s voice beside him, “Are there exit wounds?” The sound of scissors cutting fabric commanded his attention as Rashid and Sally carefully removed Quatre’s shirt.

Rashid, still holding his vest against Quatre’s chest. “There’s one on this side.” His voice rumbled like it always did, though this time it carried a scratchy, strained sound. Trowa felt along Quatre’s back with one hand, searching in the general area of where an exit wound should be. His fingers met a sticky wetness that hadn’t already been on his hand.

“There’s one here too.”

Sally pulled out several gauze pads and adhesive tape. “At least he doesn’t have one ricocheting around inside,” she muttered as she bandaged him up. A groan and a hiss let them know that, at least for now, Quatre was still conscious. “Alright, now we just have to get to the roof,” she said when she was done.

“ETA is three minutes.” An update from Wufei.

“We’re underground. How are we going to get to the top in three minutes?” he asked, looking at Sally.

“The elevator?” offered Auda over his shoulder. Trowa looked up at him.

“Weren’t they shut down?” Wufei asked doubtfully.

“No,” answered Rashid. Everyone’s face turned toward the big man. “We just used the stairs to make sure we didn’t get boxed in. They should be operational.”

“We already shot our way through the Eurussian forces,” added Sally. “They won’t be expecting us to go back up.”

“Alright then. Let’s not waste time,” Rashid said. He tucked one arm around Quatre’s shoulders and hooked the other under his knees. Sally gently laid the oxygen cannister in Quatre’s lap. Trowa watched as Quatre fought to keep his eyes open. They were threatening to flutter shut again, despite the treatment Sally had provided. His labored breaths were becoming increasingly shallow.

Carefully, Rashid stood up, cradling Quatre in his arms. The motion elicited no reaction from the injured Gundam pilot. The blonde’s head lolled against the big man’s shoulder. He traded concerned looks with Rashid. “Keep that bag up high,” Sally told the Maguanac whom Trowa couldn’t remember.

Off they went, leaving Kozlov’s cooling body on the cement.

With the defensive circle of Maguanacs once again protecting their nucleus, they made it to the elevators quickly. No signs of trouble. Sally pressed the up button. “We’re going to have to split up,” Sally said. “Not everyone will fit in a single elevator.” Rashid concurred and instructions were assigned as to who would go in the second compartment with orders that the group without Quatre would exit first and make sure the area was clear.

Wufei looked at his watch as they entered the small metal interior. “A minute thirty. Can we make it up in time?”

“They might have to wait for us,” replied one of the other Middle Eastern soldiers.

“If they can,” replied Sally. “Hopefully they won’t be taking fire up there.”

Everyone fell silent as the numbers ticked by agonizingly slowly. To Trowa it seemed like the ride took forever. He looked to the side. Rashid looked almost as pale as the blonde teenager in his arms. The look on his face was heart-wrenching and Trowa was pretty sure he saw moisture in the corners of his eyes. Though he couldn’t make out what he was saying, he could hear Rashid saying something softly to Quatre in what sounded like Arabic.

Quatre’s eyes had become unfocused again. He was losing the fight. They weren’t even on the roof yet and God only knew how long it would take them to get to the hospital. Trowa closed his eyes, fighting back the fear and pessimism that threatened to defeat him. He wasn’t a religious person. He’d seen too much war and death for that, but even so, he sent up a prayer. At this rate, what could it hurt?

The happy chime of the elevator reaching its destination struck a discordant tone against their somber group. The other group waved them forward and they filled out into the hallway. Down the hall and a few turns later and they made it to the door. No trouble. _Thank God._

One of the Maguanacs ran ahead and opened the door and suddenly they were bathed in sunlight. A playful breeze danced about them. It was still September. The air was warm with a hint of Autumn on the way. From a height of twenty stories he looked up, the wind tossed his hair like an unfurled flag. He could see the chopper banking in their direction.

Rashid’s voice sharply calling Sally brought his attention back beside him. Rashid had put Quatre down and Sally was kneeling beside him, stethoscope at work. Fear stabbed him like icicles, blanketing his whole body in cold numbness. _Listening for breath sounds. She’s listening for breath sounds._

Automatically, he stepped closer so as to see better. The other Maguanacs knew not to encroach too much. They kept a respectful distance, giving Sally enough room to work. Quatre’s eyes were closed and there was no fog on the inside of his oxygen mask that would indicate he was breathing. He heard her say something about a collapsed lung and pressure. He couldn’t comprehend what she was getting at. He tried, but his brain didn’t want to work.

He watched as Sally pulled out a large plastic tube and a sharp instrument. _What is she doing?_ He wondered. His eyes went wide in shock as she pressed the razor’s edge against Quatre’s side and cut between his ribs. _Holy shit._ He watched in a mixture of amazement and horror as she threaded the tube into the incision. A nauseating amount of blood began to run out of it.

The chopper landed and what looked to be two military medics ran over to them. “Need a lift?” asked the first. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and an Australian accent. Trowa was still dazed, focused on watching as Sally and Rashid worked to stabilize the chest drain. Quatre was breathing again. Barely it seemed but breathing. His eyes didn't open.

Sally looked up to the man and they traded words. Probably talking about Quatre’s condition. He stood there as the second medic brought over a stretcher to which they transferred Quatre. As a pair, they carried him to the chopper and worked to get him situated inside. Sally ran over to Rashid and after a few quick words made her way over to him. She put a bloody hand on his shoulder. “You’re going with him,” she said.

“What?” He was still dazed. He’d seen guys worked on in the field before, but this wasn’t just another guy. It was Quatre and he’d just stopped breathing. Sally’s hand was covered in his blood. So was Rashid’s. So was his.

Sally looked him in the eyes. “He needs someone to go with him. You’re in no shape to be of any help here, so come on,” she said as she took his elbow and walked him over to the chopper. One of the medics reached out for him and he took the offered hand.

The area was cramped. He knew medical choppers didn’t have a lot of room, but still. It looked like he’d get in the way no matter where he sat. He was positioned in a corner by the other medic. “Stay there, alright? No matter what happens.” Irish accent. He nodded, feeling rather useless and more than a little numb.

He felt the chopper lift off, hover, and then bank away. The rotors were too loud for him to be able to ask any questions. So he sat and watched helplessly as the medics hooked Quatre up to a heart monitor and started a second IV. He wanted so badly to hold him and tell him to fight, be strong, and stay with him. From his corner, he couldn’t.

Suddenly the heart monitor began beeping rapidly. Trowa looked up, the peaks and valleys on the machine made no sense to him. Irish cursed. “He’s in v-fib!” He entwined his hands together and immediately began chest compressions.

Quatre’s oxygen mask and canister had been set aside as the other medic pulled out a portable defibrillator and began placing the pads on Quatre’s now unmoving chest. Trowa pressed himself against the wall. Quatre wasn’t breathing again. That was the second time in roughly five minutes. And now his heart wasn’t beating. He closed his eyes and prayed to whatever god may be listening.

His ears could still hear the medics working. The heart monitor was still going ballistic, then there was a pause in which he heard a faint electric charge and thud before the monitor went crazy again. He could hear one of the medics continue chest compressions. “Come on son…” That from Australia.

Trowa opened his eyes. Both medics were holding their hands up, looking at the screen. The electric vamp of a charger and soft thud came again and Quatre’s body jolted. “We got a rhythm,” Australia called out. The monitor’s crazy beeping had settled down to a less frantic pace. He checked Quatre’s airway. “Still not breathing.”

Irish pulled something out of his bag, positioned himself behind Quatre’s head before tipping the blonde’s chin up, exposing his neck. He clicked a light on via some instrument and looked down his throat. With familiar efficiency, he held out his hand, expecting something. Australia passed him a long plastic tube that Irish then threaded down his throat. “Got it. Bag.” Australia attached a plastic bag to the tube. Irish took over and squeezed in a slow rhythm. “There’s a good lad,” he murmured quietly. “Almost there boyo. Just hold on.”

Australia sidled over next to him. “You alright?” he asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Trowa nodded mutely. He didn’t trust himself to be able to speak. “We’re almost there, mate. Have some faith. Your boy’s made it this far.”

After what felt like way too long, the chopper banked and he could see the roof of a hospital. A team was already in front of the doors, waiting for them to land. They touched down with a bump. The medics waited until the hospital team placed the gurney next to the chopper before moving him over. Irish handed the plastic breathing bag over to one of the hospital staff.

As soon as Quatre was situated they were off and running. Irish followed, reciting all the pertinent medical information. Australia clapped him on the shoulder again as he watched them wheel Quatre away. “Let’s go, mate.” He jumped out of the chopper and helped him out. He had to lean on the Aussie for a moment for fear of his knees giving out. The guy had called it, he wasn’t entirely steady. “Sure you’re alright?” he asked. Trowa nodded and righted himself.

With a dubious look, Australia led him across the roof and through the doors at a much slower pace than the hospital team. The inside was a maze of hallways and rooms. The team that had taken Quatre was nowhere in sight. Australia muttered to himself as he read the signs, trying to find his way around.

He was eventually able to flag down a nurse. She led them both down the main hallway and to the elevator. A few floors down and they’d be there. Australia never let go of his arm the whole way and Trowa was grateful. He’d never been affected quite like this. His mind was still slow to work. He couldn’t get the image of Quatre bleeding onto the concrete and gasping for air out of his head.

The elevator doors opened. They stepped out, Australia leading the way. The guy caught sight of Irish down the hall. “Finn,” he called. Irish whipped his head around and waved them over. He was at the end of the hall, in front of large double doors and a red sign above them was lit up.

“Was wondering where you lads had gotten off to.”

“His mate here’s a little out of it,” Australia replied as he guided Trowa over. Irish gave him an appraising look.

“I’ll be fine,” he managed to say. Irish, Finn, gave him the same doubtful look Australia had given him but didn’t press the issue.

“He’s already in surgery. The nurse said you could wait here,” Finn said indicating a bench that he hadn’t noticed. “Someone should keep you informed as they work on him.”

“We gotta head out on another run,” Australia said before giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Take care of yourself, mate.”

Trowa watched as the two hurried back in the direction they’d come. He rubbed his hands across his face and sat down on the bench, allowing his forearms to rest on his knees. Man, he felt exhausted. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Quatre had come to rescue them and now he might die. How the hell was that fair? The guy was the nicest person he knew and the person he happened to love the most.

He opened his eyes. Staring at the ceiling, he remembered the last time he’d waited in the hospital for Quatre. He hadn’t been alone then. Duo and Rashid had been there. Quatre had been in much better shape that time, despite the stab wound to his abdomen. He’d been in the hospital for only a couple days before being released.

Trowa looked over to the doors. Through the doors’ windows, he could see down a continuing hallway. The room he was in had to be down that hallway. There would be no way to watch the surgery’s progression from here.

His eyes dropped down to his hands. He stared at the blood-stained on them. Slowly, he rubbed his hands together. The blood didn’t come off. He looked back to the double doors. He couldn’t leave to wash his hands while Quatre was in there. He looked back down at his hands. Quatre’s blood on them might be the last memory he had of him being alive. He tried to push the thought away.

He didn’t know how long he sat alone, his mind tumbling all kinds of thoughts and scenarios through his head. The sound of the doors opening brought his attention away from his troubled thoughts. He looked up to meet the kind eyes of a round-faced Chinese woman. No smile though. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice scratchy from both his emotions and lack of use.

“He has a punctured lung, punctured diaphragm, and a punctured colon,” she told him in really good English.

“Sounds bad.” The look she gave him was sympathetic.

“It’s not good, especially since he crashed on the way in. He lost a lot of blood. He’s already had two transfusions. We’re about to start a third. The good news is that both bullets passed clean through, minimizing the internal damage. We’re still working on repairing the internal injuries and stopping the blood loss. We just wanted to give you an update.”

His throat constricted. He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his head against his clasped hands. “Odds?” he asked. It was the only word he could force from his throat. When she didn’t immediately answer he looked back up. Her lips were pressed in a firm line.

“Hope for the best,” she told him. “But expect the worst.” Trowa felt like the air had been knocked out of him. His chest constricted and his heart raced. His gaze dropped to the floor, his wide eyes staring unseeing at the cold linoleum. He felt her hand squeeze his shoulder and heard her say something about getting his hands cleaned up.

He had to admit, he wasn’t entirely surprised, but the finality in her tone hit him like a train. A hand on his shoulder caused him to look up. Another nurse smiled kindly at him, motioning for him to follow her. Without thinking he did so. She led him to a restroom. Ah yes, his hands. Trowa walked in, leaving his guide behind.

He stopped in front of a sink and looked in the mirror. He looked awful. His face was pale and drawn from stress. His eyes were rimmed with red even though he didn’t remember crying at all. Turning on the tap, he scrubbed his hands under the warm water. They shook terribly. _I’m in shock._

After he was done scrubbing his hands clean, he pushed the water to cold, and rinsed his face. The sting of the chill water brought him back to focus. He looked at himself in the mirror again as he toweled himself off. He still looked like shit, but at least he wasn’t shaking anymore.

The nurse was still there, waiting for him when he stepped back into the hallway. With a small smile, she led him back down to his bench before hurrying back to wherever she’d come from. Trowa put his head in his hands and waited.


	19. Chapter 19

Staring at the floor, head against his hands, Trowa vaguely recognized heavy footfalls walking down the hallway. He paid them no mind, lost as he was within his thoughts. Memories, dreams, hopes, and fears all swirled inside him. He felt a large hand come down on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Rashid leaning against the wall, staring down at him.

The man looked just as bad as he had when he looked at himself in the mirror. Face pale and stretched. Eyes rimmed red from tears. Rashid’s hand on his shoulder didn’t shake though. Despite what must be going through his mind, Rashid was steady. The expression he gave Trowa was one of profound sadness and concern.

Trowa looked over to the doors again. No one had come out to talk to him in a long while. He glanced at his watch. Four hours. They’d been in there for four hours. Shit. Rashid didn’t say anything, just gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze before sitting down next to him.

Even sitting, Trowa felt small compared to him. He rubbed his face in his hands for probably the half-dozenth time. So many thoughts, so many emotions twisted inside him and he simply couldn’t keep it all together anymore. “They’ve been in there four hours,” he said weakly. His voice trembled. “Lung, diaphragm, and colon, all punctured. They said…” he couldn’t finish. His cough sounded suspiciously like a sob. “He crashed on the way in.”

Once again he stared down at the floor, head hung low. He blinked repeatedly, partially from mute surprise, partially to keep the tears from falling. This waiting was agonizing and Rashid said nothing. Did nothing. Just sat there with him.

Time either stood still or flew by. He couldn’t quite tell. He only knew that Rashid’s body was warm and sturdy. The big man’s presence was grounding, like a tree. He wondered if this is what Quatre felt when he was with Rashid. Suddenly he understood what Quatre had been getting at the other day.

“You know,” he said. It was a statement rather than a question. He could feel Rashid smile though the voice that answered was pained.

“I knew when you first showed up.” _Well shit._ Trowa could feel the heat start spreading across his face. Rashid gave no indication that he’d noticed.

“Master Quatre said you two fought,” Rashid said. Trowa didn’t say anything. It must have been answer enough. “Religion isn’t perfect. All the holy texts were written way before we started making sense of how and why we are what we are. Sometimes you have to make moral adjustments.”

“Love is love?” he asked. Rashid chuckled. The sound was warm and felt like an underground tremor against him.

“Something like that.” The warmth in his voice radiated through Trowa. Quatre had been right. He needn’t have worried. Rashid continued, “Besides, my religious views aren’t necessarily his.” That piqued his interest. He leaned back, sitting straighter and studied the big man carefully.

“What do you mean?”

Rashid considered him for a moment before explaining. “Master Quatre wasn’t raised religious. Despite being Muslim himself, Master Quatre’s father actually preferred his children to learn about the world’s major religions through education and tolerance, allowing them to come to their own conclusions.”

Rashid looked away and seemed contemplative. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but he did tell me he read the Quran once and he just couldn’t accept some of its stances. It wasn’t difficult to tell what he was referring to, even if he didn't go into specifics. Our holy book takes a much more explicit stance against homosexuality than the Christian Bible, so I’m told.” Rashid shrugged and looked back at him. “Master Quatre still respects his heritage, but I think he’s confident enough in his own morality to stand on his own and perhaps he’s still a little bit rebellious against his father.”

He and Rashid looked at each other for a long moment as he mulled all that over in his head. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with that information. The man’s theory certainly sounded like Quatre. The guy rarely talked about his father. Actively avoided it in most cases.

The silence was broken by the stampede of many sets of feet rushing through the hallway. Both men turned their attention to the noise. Heero, Wufei, Sally Po, Auda, Abdul, and Ahmad with Duo leading the pack were coming up to them as fast as possible without getting yelled at by hospital staff. As a pair, he and Rashid rose from the bench. Trowa took a deep breath, preparing to answer questions he was not at all ready to answer.

Before anyone had a chance to say anything, the double doors opened. Everyone stopped and trained their attention on the doctor who had just appeared. The woman stared at a group that was much larger than what she had anticipated. “All for Mr. Winner?” she asked apprehensively.

“How is he?” asked Rashid. The woman looked at the group with sympathetic concern.

“Is someone here related to him?” she asked. “I’m not allowed to give information out to a whole bunch of people.”

“I’m his legal guardian, you can speak freely,” Rashid answered. His tone left no room for doubts.

The doctor took a breath. “He’s alive. That’s the good news. He’s in recovery. In an hour or so, he’ll be taken up to ICU where you can visit.”

“And the bad news?” The voice was Heero’s.

The doctor flicked her gaze over him before continuing to address Rashid. “Bad news is he might not make it through the night.” Trowa felt his legs almost go out from under him. “He came in with two gunshot wounds. One to the chest, one to his abdomen. He’s lost a lot of blood and, though we repaired the damage and are treating him with continued transfusions, it might not be enough to get him through.”

The doctor looked at the faces of everyone. “His body has sustained a great deal of shock. The next 24 hours are critical. If he makes it through tomorrow, we’ll be on the better side of this, but there aren’t any guarantees.”

“That’s it?” Duo asked, voice trembling.

The doctor looked at him with a gentle but resigned expression. “If you have a priest, get him.” She looked up to Rashid. “When he’s out of recovery, I’ll have someone bring you up.” And with that, she left the same way she’d come.

Stunned silence followed. He heard a few people collapse on the floor against the wall. Rashid talked quietly with someone. Trowa continued to stare at the doors the doctor left through. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Heero come up next to him. “Did you get Castonev?” Trowa asked coldly. His voice sounded far steadier than the rest of him felt.

“No.” Heero’s voice was so matter-of-fact. No anger, no sadness, no incredulity. Just unbiased truth. As if Quatre wasn’t in danger of dying. “Apparently he was supposed to be with Kozlov. We found that guy, but Castonev was long gone.”

Trowa huffed. “Yeah, we got Kozlov.”

“Wufei said as much.”

“He tortured him, Heero.” The deep, simmering anger in his voice carried, despite the quiet words. He turned to his fellow Gundam pilot who met him eye to eye. “He tortured him.”

“I know.”

“There’s a task force going after him?” Heero didn’t respond. He’d never been prone to anger, but Trowa’s calm demeanor was on the verge of devolving into full-blown rage. He would not be shut out of this. Castonev was the reason this happened and he wanted to put a bullet in his head. “I want in.”

Heero gave him a look that suggested he was overreacting. “Trowa…” The look Trowa gave him seemed to force Heero into rethinking what he was about to say. After a moment Heero’s expression softened. “I’ll talk to Lady Une about it.”

_______________________________________________________________

Waiting was excruciating. It had only been an hour since the doctor had given them the dire news regarding Quatre’s condition. With his stomach in knots, his mind going a mile a minute, and his heart on the verge of breaking, Duo couldn’t stand it. He didn’t know how Trowa had spent four hours like this alone.

He looked around. Very few people were talking and the few that did, whispered. Auda had returned to their squad to keep the group informed, leaving Rashid, Abdul, and Ahmad to watch over Quatre. The Corp.’s two sub-unit commanders stood quietly to the side while Rashid sat next to Trowa.

 _Poor guy_ , he thought as he watched the tall pilot. He’d looked about ready to collapse after the doctor had addressed their group. Currently, he didn’t look much better, despite having returned to sitting on the bench. His eyes were unfocused as he stared ahead at nothing in particular. His face was pale and drawn, stressed. Though largely silent, his typically careful, calculating demeanor had cracked to reveal a pained and scared young man.

Duo knew what he was going through. The fear, the anger, the helplessness. He knew those feelings all too well. He’d felt them a year and a half ago when his girlfriend, Hilde, had snuck onto the battleship Libra and almost died while bringing them the crucial intelligence information she had gathered.

She’d been lucky. He silently prayed Quatre would have the same.

The soft voice of Wufei pulled at his attention. He turned his head to the right. He was having some sort of discussion with Sally Po, though he could barely hear what they were saying. Something about remaining insurgents surrendering and the reinstatement of cell phone usage. _Seems like they’ve almost got this thing finished._

He felt Heero shift beside him, pulling his attention in his direction. When he looked over to face the quiet pilot next to him he saw the doctor walking back towards them. “Heero,” he said as he watched her approach. Everyone looked at him before following his gaze. Trowa and Rashid rose from their seats.

“He’s in room 312. I’ll take you there so you don’t get lost, but I want to warn you, he’s too weak to breathe on his own, so he’s on a ventilator,” she said with a sympathetic look. “That and his final blood transfusion hasn’t finished yet. Seeing a loved one like that can be difficult. Our staff will be available for any questions you may have.”

Their group walked silently as they followed her to Quatre’s room. Duo felt his heart sink as they walked under a sign that read: Intensive Care Unit. He thought he was prepared as he followed his friends into the room. His chest tightened at what he saw.

Quatre was pale. Too pale. Tubes were sticking out of each arm. One clear and full of saline, one bright red and full of essential blood. Even after everything he’d seen, the sight made Duo queasy. After five, almost six, hours after he’d been brought in Quatre was still getting blood transfusions.

The ventilator was the worst though. Seeing his friend hooked up to a machine like that, unable to breathe on his own...It scared him. Even Hilde hadn’t been this bad when she’d been hospitalized after her espionage mission.

It made him feel just as helpless as when he was seven and hadn’t been able to help Solo. It had been a rampant virus, not gunshot sounds that had taken his best friend back then. The position he was in was the same though. No matter what he did, it wouldn’t help Quatre. He resented it.

“Why don’t you get us some coffee, Trowa?” Rashid’s soft, but reverberating voice pulled him out of his own head. The Maguanac leader’s voice carried across the markedly silent room, save for the constant beeping of the vitals monitor. Duo was mildly surprised to hear him ask Trowa to do something that would send him away from Quatre. It didn’t seem quite right to him, but without a word, Trowa obediently started to leave the room.

He didn’t think it felt right to leave Trowa on his own though. He quickly did the math. It was going to be a lot of coffee. A good enough excuse to tag along. “I’ll help,” he offered, moving to follow.

Trowa stopped short, half turning to face him. The severe expression on his face was enough to stop him in his tracks. “I’ve got two hands. I can do it myself,” he said curtly. There was more bite in those words than Duo thought the guy had in him.

The room stayed silent as Trowa left. He threw Rashid a questioning look once the guy was gone. “He needed something else to focus on for a while,” came the sympathetic response. _Made sense_ , he thought as he watched the big man pull out a phone and dial a number.

Duo looked back at Quatre and said another silent prayer. In the background, Rashid’s voice rumbled. “Iria…”

________________________________________________________________

Trowa meandered down the hall in the general direction of the cafeteria signs, his head down with his hands in his pockets. The pressure he’d felt constricting his lungs began to subside.

He was thankful to get out of that room. Seeing Quatre in such bad shape had almost unraveled what composure he had left. In that small room with so many people, he’d started to feel claustrophobic and the tightness in his chest had been suffocating. It was a situation he wasn’t accustomed to. He didn’t know how to handle it.

Rashid giving him an out had been a kindness and he suspected the man knew it too.

He startled slightly as his phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He’d almost forgotten he’d gotten it back when Sally, Rashid, and the others had rescued him and Wufei.

He pulled the phone from his pocket. The name on the screen was Cathy’s. _Cell service must be back up_ , he thought absently as he pressed the green answer button. “Trowa, you answered!” Cathy’s voice was raised, with an equal measure of shock, relief, and annoyance. He had always been a bit amazed at how she could say anything with such a variety of emotion at the same time. It always reminded him of exquisite coffee, full of depth, various layers, and different notes.

“Hey, Cathy,” he managed to reply. His voice sounded weak and cracked even to his own ears.

There was a pause on the other end of the line for a fraction of a second. “Trowa...what happened?”

Her voice, so full of concern, still held the command of an older sister bossing her little brother around. His body turned numb as his mind flashed through the last six hours. The tightness in his chest came back. He felt his legs get weak as the weight of everything once again settled over him.

“Trowa?”

He paused, standing in the middle of the quiet hallway. No one seemed to be nearby, but he didn’t completely trust himself to stay standing. Not with Cathy on the other side of the phone.

A brief mindful assessment of his surroundings produced a small hallway on his right in what looked to be a supply cubby. He turned, taking a few quick steps into the tight area, far enough away from prying eyes and ears before his legs went out from under him. With a wince and a frustrated hiss, he managed to twist and press his back against the shelves to slow his descent.

On the plus side, he didn’t think he broke his tailbone in the whole process.

The dull pain that flared down his back slowly subsided as Cathy’s voice, slightly panicked now, once again rang in his ear. “Trowa!”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled in a shaky breath. “There was an accident Cathy…” His voice faltered.

“What…?”

He tucked his knees close to his chest, propped an elbow on his knee, and ran a hand across the back of his head. The lump in his throat was back and it took multiple attempts before he was able to even try to answer her question. “Quatre…Cathy he…”

Shit. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take several deep breaths before trying again. The words rushed out of him like water spilling from a dam. “Quatre got shot.” The weight of the reality of the situation felt equally crushing.

He lost it then. He didn’t have the strength to keep himself together anymore. Sitting in the supply hallway of the hospital, with only his adopted sister next to his ear through the phone, he cried.

________________________________________________________________

Duo sat in one of the extra chairs that had been brought in for their group. He’d been staring at the ceiling for God knew how long. He’d just been wondering how far away the stupid cafeteria was for Trowa to be taking so long. It was just coffee. It’s not like the place had a Starbucks. _Maybe I really should have gone with him._

A soft chorus of voices alerted him to Trowa’s return. Duo sat up and looked towards to door. Yep. There was the glorified coffee guy. After a quick glance at Quatre’s still unconscious form on the bed, he pushed himself out of his chair and walked over. “We were starting to get worried, man,” he said in an attempt to tease him.

Trowa’s eyes met his and the look he received was intense and withering. Obviously, humor was lost on the guy. “I got lost.” By the pink tint and slight puffiness to his eyes, Duo was pretty sure he wasn’t referring to directional navigation.

“...GNN’s Kiera Redly.” The sound of the TV cut into the silence and several faces turned towards the screen.

“You have the TV on?” Trowa asked. His voice sounded a little dazed to Duo’s ears.

“Yeah, Abdul turned it on. Wanted to keep an eye on what the world was doing. Apparently, Relena is going to be making a statement soon,” he replied as he took his coffee. Trowa turned to Heero who merely shrugged. Duo didn’t quite know what that was about.

“With Preventer forces declaring their operation to free the Chinese capital a success, it looks as if the Eurussian Conflict has come to a close. The Prime Minister and his family are reported to have been rescued by a covert ops team. We are told to expect a joint statement from him along with Vice Foreign Minister Relena Dorilan shortly.”

Duo watched the TV in silence as he returned to his seat. There wasn’t much else to do. On the plus side, the sandy-haired, green-eyed woman behind GNN’s anchor desk was pretty easy on the eyes.

“A quick recap as we wait for the joint statement: Preventer forces are declaring a victory over the Eurussian insurgents. All conflict has ceased with a majority of the Eurussuian soldiers having been arrested. No word yet on what charges they are expected to face. Mikhail Castonev, leader and mastermind of the Eurussian Conflict is officially listed as missing but suspected to still be alive. He is wanted by authorities on charges of treason and possession of weapons of mass destruction. Other charges are expected to be brought against him in the coming days.”

“Martial Law is still in effect within the Chinese territory. A curfew is being enforced from 8 p.m. until 8 a.m. If anyone needs assistance during these times, they are to urged call their emergency services departments...”

Not five minutes later the TV stopped whatever broadcast it had been playing. Relena and the Chinese Prime Minister appeared on the screen. It was obvious that they were in a secure area. Duo only half listened as the pair essentially walked back the guy’s previous national announcement and reaffirmed the end of the fighting.

Instead, his focus went back to Quatre. His chair, situated between the bed and the far wall, was close enough to allow him to reach a hand out and hold Quatre’s. Carefully, so as not to jar the IV taped to his arm, he threaded their fingers together. “Hey,” he said quietly as he watched Quatre’s unconscious face, leaning towards him slightly. “They said it’s over. Thought you should know. Everyone is fine. And Trowa and Wufei are here if you didn’t know that already.”

His voice caught in his throat. It seemed so unfair to him that Quatre of all people would get hurt this bad. His bubbly friend was nothing but compassion and light. All the guy wanted was to help people. He couldn’t help but think that it was always the best of them that were taken from this Earth too soon.

________________________________________________________________

Trowa watched silently as Duo talked quietly to Quatre, who remained unresponsive. In the opposite corner, he could hear Abdul and Ahmad having some sort of sincere conversation, he didn’t much care about what. Wufei and Sally were also having a hushed conversation. Trowa himself had positioned himself near a back corner, trying to stay as isolated as possible given the size of the room and the number of people present.

“Iria’s on her way.” Rashid’s deep rumble from behind startled him. He looked over his shoulder briefly and wondered when the big man had taken up that space. The man could be pretty quiet when he wanted to. Trowa looked back to Quatre as those words sank in.

“You called her,” he replied quietly. Rashid’s silence was enough of an answer. “But there’s a curfew.”

“The Preventers know to expect her. She’ll have an escort here, whether the curfew is in effect or not.”

It made sense, calling her here. If Quatre was going to die, the sister he had become closest to should be present if at all possible. The thought constricted his chest and the fear of meeting his sister, especially considering the circumstances put an icy fear through him. How was he going to explain that he was the reason Quatre was like this? He suddenly understood Quatre’s position with Cathy. Older sisters were terrifying.

He watched as Ahmad broke away from Abdul, who looked quite solemn. Everyone who had been holding a conversation fell silent and even Duo left Quatre’s side to stand amongst the other Gundam pilots near the door. The Arab leaned over Quatre’s still form and began chanting in Arabic.

“What’s he doing?” he asked as quietly as possible.

“He’s praying,” Rashid’s deep voice was soft and calm, but he could hear the pain in it too. The force of that knowledge caused him to sway on his feet. Rashid’s steadying hand on his shoulder held him upright.

A quiet, but familiar voice from the doorway grabbed his attention. Robotically, he looked at where this new voice came from. Relena was standing there, partially in the hallway, next to Heero. The concern on her face was evident. “I got here as quickly as I could. How is he?”

Heero looked at her and shook his head. “It’s not good,” came the barely audible, but matter-of-fact answer. “He’s been shot twice. The doctor said to get a priest.”

Trowa saw her hands fly to her mouth in shock as she gasped at that. _Yeah, so Ahmad’s praying_ , he thought bitterly as he turned his attention back to Quatre. _He’s dying, so Ahmad’s_ praying _._

Suddenly, a multitude of alarms began beeping. Ahmad looked over in their direction, his face pale and shocked. A pair of nurses quickly entered the room, followed by a doctor. Ahmad backed away as they converged around Quatre. The first nurse looked at the monitor. “His blood pressure is dropping. 90/50.”

“He’s tachy again, 140. Breathing’s shallow,” the other nurse added urgently.

“He’s probably bleeding out somewhere. Something went wrong,” the doctor replied. “Call up to OR, tell them we’re coming up.”

The second nurse rushed out of the room. The doctor and the remaining nurse began prepping to take Quatre up to surgery when the monitors flat-lined. The ominous, steady sound that indicated a loss of vitals held everyone’s attention. The doctor cursed. “I need a crash cart!” she called as she threaded her hands together and began chest compressions.

The second nurse came back with the portable defibrillator cart. “Charge to 200.”  
Rashid placed a thick arm around his shoulder and across his chest as they listened to the machine ramp up. The doctor took the paddles and placed them on Quatre’s chest. “Clear!” She looked at both of the nurses, who had their hands raised, before squeezing the buttons.

Quatre’s body jolted. A nurse felt for a pulse. The vital monitor continued its dull cry. The lines stayed flat.

“Again,” the doctor said. The machine charged once again and again the call of “Clear!” was heard. Still no response. The nurses looked at the doctor with concern. “Charge to 360,” she told them. “We’re not letting him go that easily.”

Trowa wasn’t sure how he was still standing. He must have been obvious. Rashid pulled him back against him, his back pressed against the man’s strong body. The support it offered was welcomed.

The sound of the paddles jolting Quatre’s body sounded throughout the room again and it felt as if everyone watching was holding their breath. A faint blip sounded. Then another. And another.

“We got him,” one of the nurses called out with obvious relief.

“Alright,” the doctor said as she pushed the crash cart to the side. “He’s not out of the woods yet. Let’s get him to OR.” Everyone stood in stunned silence as the trio rushed Quatre out of the room.


	20. Chapter 20

The sun was shining, the breeze was warm and carried the salty smell of the sea along with burning fuel and charred metal. Surrounded by forty heavily armored mobile suits, out of ammunition, and locked in hand to hand combat with what appeared to be another Gundam, Trowa had to admit he was in a bad position.

Suddenly the cockpit door of the opposing Gundam opened. A small blonde-haired, blue-eyed pilot came out and yelled something about not fighting each other. He didn’t know why, but something inside told him to trust this guy.

Trowa opened his own cockpit, walking out with his hands up in surrender. The blonde stranger smiled and reminded him who was the first to come out of their suit.

***

The complex he’d found himself in was extensive. His freedom hadn’t been restricted in the slightest, though out of preference he mostly kept to his room. Despite the size, it was comfortably furnished. No one bothered him, allowing him to focus on planning his next mission.

Quatre, the guy he’d surrendered to at Corsica had insisted on him allowing them to repair his Gundam. With supplies difficult to get, he’d agreed. Assistance was hard to come by and he wasn’t about to waste such an opportunity. Already the repairs had taken a couple of days and he was eager to get to his next target.

Working at his computer, he heard the sound of music drifting down the hall and into his room. He turned in his chair and stared out the door. The delightful voice of a violin carried above the overall music of the song that played through speakers. _How odd_ , he mused, _to hear someone playing_ a violin _in a place like this_. With a war room and a full mobile suit repair garage beneath this complex, such a happy sounding thing seemed out of place.

He pushed his chair away from his desk and followed the sound to its source. Standing in a circular room with a beautiful glass dome, there was that blonde guy again. He probably shouldn’t be all that surprised. The cheerful sound coming from the instrument he played seemed to match the guy’s overall personality.

Trowa moved further into the room, casually leaning against one of the many large, arched windows that looked out into a desert courtyard. Despite the upbeat tempo, the music relaxed him. _He plays well at least,_ he thought as he listened with his eyes closed.

The primary sound of the violin faded as a flute took over. The floaty sound wrapped around him and entered his soul. He opened his eyes and stared into the carpet. He hadn’t heard the sound of a flute in what, _years_? Yet the sound drew him in. Like it had before.

Compelled by either sentimentality or the pull to not leave the guy in front of him playing half of a duet, he walked over to the music case and withdrew the flute that resided there. The sound of the violin stopped completely. Briefly, his eyes met those of his unexpected host, whose own eyes sparkled in surprised delight.

He knew this song. It wasn’t a difficult tune to play. His fingers followed the familiar path his memories laid out in his head.

***

 

A mechanical _blip-blip_ took his attention away from the duet he shared with Quatre. There had been no such sound in the music room back then. He didn’t understand where it was coming from.

_Blip-blip._

Trowa opened his eyes and was forced to close them almost immediately. The sun was bright, even as it filtered through the window curtains. It took several moments of sitting in his chair with his eyes half-hooded before they adjusted properly. He could vaguely make out hushed voices discussing something on the other side of the room.

_Blip-blip._

He opened his eyes fully. He could see the corner of a medical bed. Lifting his head off his propped up arm, he saw Quatre. His heart fluttered at the same time his stomach clenched. He was still pale and still on the ventilator, but at least he was alive. The vitals monitor went _blip-blip_ again.

He remembered. They’d almost lost him a second time yesterday. Not long after he’d gotten out of surgery the first time, he’d flatlined. The medical staff had been able to restart his heart and get him back into surgery. Some sutures had come open, causing him to bleed internally. Three hours later they’d wheeled him back into the room. They’d all managed to stay awake through the surgery, but it hadn’t been long before most of them had passed out once Quatre had come back. The whole ordeal had been draining.

He stared at Quatre’s still form. He looked both younger and yet so much older than he had before. _Exhausted_ , he thought. _He’s exhausted_.

The click of heels walking up the hallway caught his attention. Reorienting himself, he pulled in a deep breath and shifted in his seat, looking around the rest of the room. The movement caused a blanket to slide off him. He stared at it, pooled on the floor. He didn’t remember falling asleep with it.

The low, rumbling voice of Rashid filtered into his ears. It was then that he realized that no one else was in the room. _Where did everyone go?_ Trowa looked to the doorway. Rashid stood there, talking with a tall, sandy-haired brunette. Iria. Quatre’s sister was here.

Facing Rashid, she looked over her shoulder towards her brother as the big man talked. Trowa’s lethargic brain only caught snippets of their conversation such as “crashed”, “bleeding”, and “coma”.

Coma? Quatre was in a coma?

Trowa once again looked at his friend, his lover. His heart sank. He knew comas were tricky. Some people came out of them no problem, some came out with disabilities, and some didn’t come out of them at all.

Heero had been in one once after he’d self-detonated in defiance of OZ when they had threatened the safety of the colonies in response to the increasing threat of the Gundams. He’d been there when the guy had done it. Certain his comrade was dead, he’d picked up Heero’s body with his own Gundam and escaped the battlefield. After returning to the circus, he had realized that Heero, in fact, wasn’t dead, but comatose. With Cathy’s help, they’d cared for him. A month later, Heero had woken up without any detrimental effects. Trowa didn’t want to think about the odds of that happening again.

The clicking came closer, once again pulling at his attention though he was reluctant to take his eyes off Quatre. As silly as it might sound, he couldn’t help but fear that he would be gone if he looked away.

The clicking stopped. Forcefully, he tore his gaze off Quatre and came face to face with a gray overcoat. He hadn’t expected that. Damn was he slow this morning.

He blinked several times before looking up. Her hair was darker than Quatre’s and her eyes were a dark blue compared to Quatre’s aquamarine but their facial structures were similar. The family resemblance certainly was strong. With her back straight, head held high, and the same air of natural leadership about her, there was no mistaking who she was.

As quickly as he could manage without knocking the chair over or getting his feet caught in the blanket, Trowa rose to his feet as they stared at each other. He officially felt awkward. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, what was expected. _Play it cool_ , he told himself.

“You must be Trowa,” she said. Her voice was gentle and what would almost pass for a smile was welcoming. Her eyes held the same kindness in them as Quatre’s. Her hands stayed in her coat pockets though, so no handshake. Certainly no hugging. That was fine by him. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

He wasn’t sure what to do with that either. Did she know that they’d started something, the same way Rashid had? Or did she simply know that Quatre had harbored feelings for him? Did she know Quatre was gay? He wasn’t nearly as concerned about that scenario as he had been regarding Rashid’s reaction.

He didn’t know what to say. So he said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He had to resist the urge to stare at the floor when he said it. If Quatre was going to be in a coma because of him, the least he could do was give his sister a straight answer for what happened. “He got hurt because of me.”

Iria held up a hand to stop him. She shook her head and he could see the tears begin to pool in her eyes. His heart went out to her. He hated seeing women cry. “The only ones responsible for this are those who started this conflict,” she said. Her voice was strong, despite the pain behind it. “Rashid said you both helped stop the bleeding? Right after?”

Trowa felt his throat constrict at the memory. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he settled for a nod in response. Iria’s smile was full of sadness as she placed a hand on his arm and gave a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said. “You both probably saved his life.” Letting her hand drop from his arm, she glanced over at Quatre before turning back to him. “We’ll talk later, alright?” she said with another weak smile before walking up to the hospital bed. It hadn’t been a question, regardless of how she worded it.

He felt grossly out of place as if he was an unwelcome stranger in their lives. But she didn’t seem angry or upset with him. Just sad. Sad and afraid of losing her little brother. He watched as she pulled up a chair and started talking to her brother quietly, running her fingers through his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rashid hold his arm out in his direction. A silent suggestion.

Quietly, Trowa stepped away from the blanket and the chair and joined him. Rashid wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him out of the room. “Let’s give them some privacy,” Rashid said quietly. With one last look over his shoulder, Trowa allowed Rashid to lead him away. He sent up a silent prayer that Quatre would still be there when they came back.

 

_____________________________________________________________

It didn’t take long for Trowa and Rashid to find the others. Everyone had made themselves comfortable in the cafeteria. Except Heero. Heero was nowhere to be seen.

Rashid went over and began having a conversation with the other members of the Maguanac Corp. Trowa chose to take a seat next to Wufei. Out of the group, he was the least likely to try pulling him into a pointless conversation. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He was much more comfortable letting his mind wander.

***

They were all aboard Peacemillion. Both the World Nation and the White Fang military forces could be felt preparing for a large battle. The consensus among the Gundam pilots had become that the White Fang posed the biggest threat to both the Colonies and Earth and was, therefore, their enemy. As such, Trowa and the other Gundam pilots were waiting on final repairs to their mobile suits before taking the fight to the White Fang again.

Trowa’s memory had been back for a few days now and this positive turn of events was dampened only by Quatre’s continued uneasiness around him. While in the company of the other Gundam pilots, Quatre had slowly grown more comfortable in his presence. That progress disappeared, however, during the rare occasions they found themselves alone together. It was obvious that Quatre wanted to go back to their comfortable familiarity, but it was also clear that the guy’s guilt for causing Trowa’s temporary amnesia and almost killing him still weighed heavily on him.

At the moment, everyone was still looking for ways to kill time and Trowa was on his way back to his room after checking on Heavyarms. Passing Quatre’s door, he noticed the guy sitting on his bed, looking at some files. “Hey Quatre,” he said, mildly curious as to what he was working on. “What are you looking at?” He stopped and leaned against the door frame, slipping his hands in his pockets as he relaxed against his perch.

Apparently, Quatre hadn’t heard him approach because he jumped a little at the sound of his voice, dropping some papers on the bed in the process. When their eyes met, that recurring uneasiness within him was present again. Much to Trowa’s disappointment, Quatre’s eyes were guilt-ridden, his back stiff, and his whole body seemed as taught as the bowstring of the violin he played. Trowa couldn’t help but wonder if they would ever return to the easy companionship Quatre had displayed back at the beginning of the war.

Quatre held up a few of the papers. “Data from the last battle. I’m positive it was Dorothy Catalonia who was controlling those mobile dolls. The White Fang is bound to use them like that again. I want to be prepared when they do.”

 _Makes sense_ , he thought. “You did good, leading us back there,” he said, referring to that same battle. Quatre had used the Zero System, which Heero had the mechanics install into Sandrock’s software, to counter the new level of strategical prowess the mobile dolls had displayed. Fighting separately, the Gundam pilots had been on the losing side of the fighting until Quatre had taken charge of the group, calling out tactical orders.

With Quatre focusing their efforts in complementary maneuvers, they had quickly turned the tide of the fighting in their favor, resulting in the White Fang‘s battleship Libra using its main cannon in a failed attempt at destroying the Gundams. Escaping incineration had been a close call and both the White Fang and the Gundams had returned to their corners for the time being. Since then, both sides seemed to be focusing on repairs and preparing for another round.

Quatre’s working theory was that Dorothy Catalonia, granddaughter of the recently killed leader of the Romefeller Foundation, Duke Dermail, and former classmate of Relena Peacecraft had somehow inserted herself with Zechs Marquise and the White Fang and that she had been the one controlling the mobile dolls.

From what Trowa understood of the young woman, she was a truly formidable individual. As an opposing tactician, Quatre was right to do his due diligence. He just didn’t want Quatre to get too caught up in work that he forgot to take some time for himself. He said as much.

The tenseness, so evident in Quatre’s body language, faded somewhat and a small smile pulled at the blonde’s lips. “Thanks, Trowa, but I’m fine.” Quatre didn’t offer anything else and the conversation almost died there. Quatre looked to return to his own thoughts, putting his attention back onto the papers in his hand despite Trowa’s continued presence.

Even after knowing him for such a short period of time, he could tell Quatre was both the same and different than when they’d first met. Much more burdened than before and more akin to a seasoned soldier than the bright-eyed idealist he’d met back in April. _Not surprising, considering what he’d gone through recently_ , he thought with concern.

“I’m sorry about your father,” he said quietly.

The silence had extended between them and Quatre’s expression was one of shock as he looked back at him. The pause was heavy as he watched Quatre consider the implications that Trowa knowing about his father could mean. All the Gundam pilots knew the Zero system messed with pilots’ minds and Quatre had been the one to build Wing Zero.

“Thanks,” came a hesitant reply. “But how did you know?” Quatre’s voice was just as soft. Soft and uncertain.

“I asked Heero what happened during the time between the Zero incident until recently. I wanted to fill the gaps when my memory was gone. He didn’t say much about your father though, just that he was killed.” He left off the question he wanted to ask.

Quatre heard it anyway.

He set the papers down and shifted on the bed, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around it. A defensive posture. But he hadn’t shut down, so that was a positive sign. Quatre took a deep breath. “After the colonies abandoned us, I had to self-destruct Sandrock in order to provide enough cover for Duo and Wufei to get back into outer space. I’d honestly expected to die in the process, but Sandrock opened the cockpit door and I managed to get into a shuttle of my own.”

Trowa remembered seeing the news coverage of Quatre and Duo’s attack on the Singapore spaceport. The message had been clear: time to go back to space. He and Heero had followed suit, attacking the nearest spaceport and also shuttling back into space. Like Quatre, he’d had to leave his suit behind, though unlike Sandrock, Heavyarms had remained intact.

“I was picked up in a space Leo, near one of my family’s space satellites. I don’t know how I ended up that way and no one else could explain it either, but regardless of how I got there, I was badly injured. I was treated by my sister, Iria, at the satellite before returning home with her.”

Quatre paused, temporarily lost in thought. Trowa waited patiently. It was a delicate memory and had to be told with care. “Father wasn’t happy with me, which isn’t exactly surprising.”

Quatre fiddled with something invisible on his knee as he continued. “The temperament of the colony was though. The people had turned on Father, claiming he wasn’t doing what was right by them, which wasn’t the case. Father had always used the natural resources for the betterment of everyone while always insisting on total pacifism. He never wanted the colonies to go to war or become involved in the development of weapons.”

Quatre gave a soft chuckle. “He was furious when he discovered what I was up to. He would have liked to have met Miss Relena,” Quatre mused, glancing up at him before staring back at the bed. “They would have gotten along, I think.”

“But that didn’t matter anymore.” Trowa wasn’t entirely surprised to hear the bitterness creep into Quatre’s voice. “He refused to cooperate with the proposed use of the colony’s resource satellite for arms manufacturing and for that they stripped him of his authority. When the colony voted to begin making weapons on the resource satellite, Father disconnected it. The colony destroyed the satellite and killed Father.”

Quatre went quiet, lost in his memories once again. Trowa allowed him time to collect his thoughts. He knew there was more to the story though. Knowing a family member had been killed was one thing, witnessing it was another.

The silence between them began to stretch uncomfortably and as much as he didn’t want to rush him, he was afraid Quatre would allow himself to get sucked too deep in such painful memories. Perhaps a nudge wouldn’t hurt. “You were there?” he prodded gently.

Quatre blinked and took another deep breath. “Yeah. Iria too. We tried to get Father to leave the satellite before the colony fired. Didn’t work too well. Father was always stubborn, even on a good day.” Trowa couldn’t help but smirk at that. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. “When the colony fired, it jostled to shuttle pretty badly. I was thrown to the back and Iria caught me, resulting in a back injury.”

His eyes widened in shock. His sister had been injured? He hadn’t known that. Either Heero hadn’t mentioned it or he hadn’t known about it either. Back injuries were serious, with a large concern for partial or even complete paralysis.

His reaction must have shown because Quatre smiled at him again. Barely, but it was there nonetheless. “She’ll be fine,” he reassured him. “But she’ll be in physical therapy for several months. After that, I was so angry at the colonies. They had wanted freedom from the Alliance so badly and then they just turned around and accepted OZ as if nothing bad had happened.”

Quatre dropped his gaze and stared at the bed. “I was so angry and so determined to pay them back for what they did that, once I found the blueprints to Wing Zero, I abandoned my original plan to rebuild Sandrock. Zero’s a stronger suit and that dual beam cannon has the potential to destroy a colony...so I built it instead.”

Quatre’s tone had changed again, from bitterness to regret. “I was so focused on that cannon that, despite writing the code for it, I didn’t pay much attention to the potential side effects the Zero System might have on a pilot. It’s a dangerous system. There’s a good reason the scientists never created it in the first place. I made a great series of mistakes that started with having that suit built.”

“It’s become a formidable enemy against OZ and the White Fang,” Trowa said. Despite the system’s serious and potentially deadly effects, the power of the Wing Zero had benefited the Gundam pilots’ efforts greatly. “And you handled it fine when you used the system in the last battle.” Quatre met his gaze once again.

“I consider myself lucky that I did. I honestly wasn’t sure I could when Heero said he’d had it installed in Sandrock. I’m certainly glad I don’t need it anymore, but that doesn’t make up for what happened the first time.”

It was clear that Quatre was getting agitated and his guilt was coming back to the surface. “The suit messes with people’s minds Quatre,” Trowa reminded him gently. “You can’t blame yourse…”

“That doesn’t mitigate what I’ve done, Trowa!” Quatre argued. For a brief moment, the look on his face had been one of anger, not towards him, but towards himself. Quatre wasn’t letting himself off the hook. The blonde’s expression softened again as he went back to staring at the bed he sat on. “I can’t hide behind that excuse.”

His voice was heavy with guilt.

“Yes, the system messes with one’s mind, but it wasn’t the Zero System that caused me to go crazy. I snapped the moment they killed Father and a lot of people lost their lives because of that.” His voice faded until it was barely audible. “ _You_ almost lost yours trying to rectify my mistake. Nothing I do or say will remedy that.”

Trowa stood there, silently leaning against the doorframe as he considered his friend. The root of Quatre’s problem was that he was just too kind, kinder than all the other Gundam pilots were. He shouldn’t be fighting a war and the toll it had taken on him was great. That had been evident when he and Heero had gone to intercept Quatre in Wing Zero on the orders of OZ.

When he had first been told about the mysterious new Gundam that had shown up and destroyed a resource satellite, he’d inherently known it was Quatre. And Quatre in a new Gundam meant that they could finally have an opportunity to mount an attack on OZ again. At least that had been what he’d thought. He’d actually gotten excited at the idea of teaming up with him again.

With the news of the colony that the new Gundam had destroyed, Trowa hadn’t wanted to believe that Quatre had actually done it, but the fact that he had was irrefutable and so he’d hoped there had been a good reason for doing so. After all, the colony had evacuated all civilians, which meant those that had died were entirely comprised of military personnel.

Quatre’s aggressiveness against them had quickly dashed his hopes for a concerted push against OZ and the reality of his mental state could only mean that something terrible must have happened to push him past his limit.

With that revelation, Trowa had known the best course of action in that moment was to sacrifice himself with the hope that it would wake his friend up and turn him back into the kind guy that had been the first person to offer him friendship. He’d known that allowing Quatre to kill him would hurt his troubled friend deeply, but it was likely the only thing that would counteract whatever had set him off. It was a trade he’d had no problem making.

Thankfully his gamble had worked and he was damn lucky to have survived it. Quatre’s remorse was genuine and the horror of what he had done would likely stay with him for the rest of his life, but he was back to being kind Quatre again and battle wounds eventually healed. Even emotional ones.

Though whether it was the weight of responsibility he had been raised with or simply his natural disposition, Quatre seemed reluctant to forgive himself, even if Trowa had. _Talk about stubborn_.

Trowa pushed himself off the door frame and entered the room. Carefully, so as not to disturb Quatre’s data that was sprawled about, he sat on the edge of the bed. It was close enough to be considered such, yet still mindful of the safety that Quatre’s personal bubble provided. Before he’d been reluctant to crowd the guy, considering the uneasiness Quatre obviously felt when they were alone together, but right now, it felt like the guy needed some amount of intimacy.

“You’re a strong person, Quatre,” he told him, meeting those blue eyes with his own over the peak of Quatre’s knee. “Your kindness has always been your strength, but sometimes strength isn’t enough to hold us together. You experienced a tragic loss that would be difficult for anyone to handle under normal circumstances and you did so right after almost losing your life for the people who betrayed you not once, but twice.”

The blonde wrapped his arms around his leg tighter and Trowa could feel Quatre consider him carefully from behind his makeshift shield. He wasn’t arguing though and Trowa took it as a sign to continue making his point.

“It’s ok that you couldn’t keep it together after all that. I’m not sure who would’ve. Even Heero tried to commit suicide after OZ made that threat to harm the colonies. Yeah, you went off the deep end, but we can at least be grateful that it wasn’t worse. No civilians were hurt and I’m fine.”

“But Trowa…”

He shook his head. There would be none of that. “In the end, everything’s pretty much worked itself out. One portion of your past doesn’t define who you are, Quatre. What happened before is always a stepping stone to what’s next. All that’s left is for us to learn from the past and decide where we go from here.”

Quatre gradually uncurled himself. Trowa could feel the tenseness in the guy’s body melt away. “That’s easier said than done,” he countered. _So difficult._

“The guy that’s in front of me is the same guy that befriended me in the desert. If you’re ever unsure of yourself, remember that.” At least some of the weight seemed to lift off Quatre’s shoulders at that and Trowa was rewarded with an appreciative smile.

***

“...he’s so young and the war was over,” he heard Rashid say quietly. “We never even considered this a possibility.” Trowa blinked repeatedly. He’d been lost in another memory.

“What does that mean for Master Quatre?” Auda replied.

He heard Rashid take a steadying breath. “It means Iria and I will be discussing it.”

“He’s just a kid though,” Ahmad said. “No one should have to be deciding this in the first place.” The others didn’t disagree and the trio fell into silence.

Trowa opened his eyes and after staring at the three men for a moment glanced in Wufei’s direction, who met his gaze. “They’re talking about potentially taking Quatre off life support,” he explained quietly.

The guy was pretty astute to notice that Trowa had been listening. The news shocked him. Quatre had to have been in a coma for less than a day. It was too soon to be talking about just letting him die.

A wave of panic threatened to take over. Wufei must have noticed because he was quick to add to his previous statement. “The doctors were asking. Rashid could literally say ‘indefinitely’ if he wanted to. It doesn’t have to be soon. Don’t worry about that yet.” That information put him at ease, but only slightly.

A motion caught his eye and he looked up. Heero was back. With a slight jerk of his head, he signaled Trowa to follow him. Quietly, he joined him away from the others. Heero fixed him with a steady glare. “Lady Une will let you on the task force to get Castonev if you join Preventer, not as a consultant or any auxiliary position, but actually join. Under her command. The whole nine yards.”

That would mean leaving Cathy and the circus which had been his home for the past two years. That would hurt, but if it meant getting the guy who did this...He’d take that deal. Trowa crossed his arms. “Fine.”

“And,” Heero continued, “You understand that the goal is to arrest him so he can face charges. This isn’t a revenge mission.”

Trowa nodded. Perhaps he’d get lucky and Castonev would put up more of a fight than Lady Une anticipated. Lots of things could happen in a fight. Heero seemed to consider him carefully for a moment before acquiescing. “Then Lady Une says she’ll induct you officially at a later date. For now, you can stay around here until Quatre wakes up.”

“We can’t lose time, Heero,” he countered. If no one knew when Quatre would wake up, there was no point in letting Castonev get a head start on them. The sooner they got him, the better.

“Look, Trowa, things are still going to be a little crazy around here as this thing winds down,” Heero reminded him. “Castonev’s the most wanted man in the whole Earth Sphere right now. If he surfaces, we’ll find out about it. If there’s actionable intel, you’ll get the call and no one is worried about your ability to take on a mission at a moment’s notice.” Heero regarded him for a while before his features softened. “Quatre needs you right now. So just sit tight.”

Trowa sighed and leaned against the wall. “They’re talking about how long to wait until they take him off life support,” he said dully.

“Sounds about right,” Heero replied, much to his annoyance. He hadn’t been expecting words of comfort from the guy, but still…such matter-of-factness hurt.

“What if he doesn’t wake up, Heero?” he asked softly. It was the first time he had actually voiced his fear.

“He’s stronger than he looks,” Heero said. “Have some faith.”

________________________________________________________________

They day had dragged on in agony. Quatre’s condition hadn’t changed. At some point Iria had left with Rashid to discuss the unthinkable, returning a while later. Despite catching the big man’s eyes, he hadn’t been informed of the decision they had made. Iria had talked with Quatre’s doctors at length.

He checked his watch. Half past one in the morning. Looking up, he watched Quatre from behind the glass door to his room. Considering Rashid was currently asleep in a chair in there, Trowa was reluctant to intrude.

Small groups of Maguanac soldiers had been allowed to visit in designated rotations throughout the day. Those groups had rotated with the other Gundam pilots as well. Everyone felt claustrophobic in this place. The rotation has allowed everyone to burn off some energy or find some if that’s what they needed.

The hospital staff hadn’t been thrilled with so many people taking up space in the visitor’s lounge and the room, though private and not shared with another patient, wasn’t large enough to house everyone who wanted to stay overnight.

In the end, Rashid, Iria, and Trowa had been the only three allowed to stay with Quatre throughout the night. Rashid had passed out about an hour ago. He wasn’t sure where Iria had gone off to or for how long she’d been gone.

He considered Quatre through the glass. It wasn’t fair. They’d just started something. It probably was delayed longer than it should have. In all likelihood, they’d both probably been crushing on each other for a while, they’d only just recently connected the dots.

After all they’d been through, they deserved some happiness in their lives. It just wasn’t fair. Not that fair really mattered. No one would die suddenly or badly or tragically if fairness had anything to do with what happened in the world. But still...Quatre didn’t deserve this.


	21. Chapter 21

A figure walked up to him and stood at his shoulder. He looked over to see who it was. Blue eyes and sandy hair. Iria. He should have guessed. She smiled softly and offered him a cup of coffee. _That smile...so much like his_ , he mused as he took the offered styrofoam. “I’m surprised you’re up,” she said casually.

“And yet you bring me coffee,” he replied, turning back to watch Quatre. He could feel her watching him.

“I’m jet-lagged,” she replied evenly. “I could have downed two if necessary.”

Trowa was apprehensive, standing there with her. He didn’t know what to expect from her or what she expected of him and he was more afraid to ask than he thought particularly reasonable. It didn’t help that he was the reason Quatre was lying comatose in a hospital bed.

He took a breath. Might as well get it out.

“He got hurt because of me,” he said quietly, but he knew Iria had heard him. He could feel her eyes on him.

“How so?” she asked. Her voice sounded curious and patient.

He was quiet for a moment, formulating the words in his head as he watched Quatre through the glass. “I got captured,” he answered. “Wufei too, but…” It was difficult, but he managed to push the words through his constricted throat. His eyes dropped to the coffee in his hand. “He came after us. He got hurt trying to get us back.”

Iria’s response was immediate, full of anger and damnation. “The only person responsible for what happened is the guy who shot him.” He heard her pull in a grounding breath, then sigh. “Rashid said you guys killed him.”

Trowa nodded as he returned to watching Quatre. “Not sure who exactly, but it was one of the Maguanacs.”

“Well there’s that at least,” she replied. She sounded right pleased about it too.

“Is that a proper response from a doctor?” he asked, mildly curious. He’d honestly expected her to feel bad about any death. He felt her shrug.

“As a doctor? Probably not. As a sister, damn right it is.”

They stood in silence for a long while, both watching Quatre do nothing but breathe with the help of the machine. “You’re quite a famous name to us, you know,” she said leadingly, changing the subject. Trowa considered her out of the corner of his eye. What was that supposed to mean? Her expression was contemplative and full of sisterly insight. “He talks about you a lot. More so than the others,” she explained.

“He does?” The surprise in his voice was obvious. Up until he’d arrived in Quatre’s town, they hadn’t seen each other in nine months and the last they’d been together had been during the Mariemaia Incident.

Iria tilted her head slightly, considering. “If you pay attention to the ratio of how much time you’ve spent with him and how much he talks about you compared to the others, then yes. You stand out.”

Seriously? _That’s_ how she came to that conclusion? Play it cool, he reminded himself. When in enemy territory, it was always best to keep your head on straight. “Oh really?” he asked mildly. She smiled, taking a sip of her own drink. The look in her eye spoke of someone knowing more information than they’d let on.

“And Rashid told me about your guys’ date before Preventer called you guys in.”

He nearly choked on his coffee at that. What?! Panic ran through him and instinct kicked in. With a sharp twist, he faced Iria with a stern expression. “It wasn’t a…” He quickly shut his mouth.

The look she had pinned him with was that of a sister who had a very good idea what was going on. His memory took him back to that day. The cafe, the museum, the carnival pier, the ferry boat. The places had been spontaneous, but if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that it had certainly felt like a date. He looked back at Quatre and wondered if he’d felt the same. In hindsight, it was hard to imagine otherwise.

“You love him, don’t you?” Her voice was soft, but her words pierced him as effectively as the bullets that had put Quatre in that bed. He took a long draw of his coffee, though he couldn’t taste the flavor.

He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He had nothing to really base Iria’s statement off of. He cared for all of the Gundam pilots in certain ways, though he cared for Quatre a great deal on a whole nother level, but could that be called love? He cared for Cathy, more than anyone else besides Quatre. She was like a sister to him, even if she wasn’t biologically. He could reasonably say that he loved Cathy. It didn’t have the same implications though.

Did he love Quatre?

Semantics about dating aside, they _had_ spent the whole afternoon and evening together before the world went to Hell again. They’d shared some cherished moments then. He’d been positively terrified at the thought of losing Quatre after that Monstrosity suit almost killed him in their first battle, so much so that he’d gone and kissed the guy in front of God knew how many people in the repair bay. They’d spent not one, but two nights in the same bed since then. Sexual desires or not, the level of intimacy they had shared had felt as natural as breathing.

Recently, he’d felt more protective of Quatre than he had before. They all had a job to do, a dangerous one. Quatre included. He hadn’t even considered telling Quatre not to join the fighting, but he certainly had worried about losing him all the same. And it turned out that he cared more than he probably should of what Rashid and even Iria thought.

Trowa took another contemplative sip of coffee. Quatre was the kindest guy he’d ever met, always giving everything he’s got into whatever he set his mind to and always caring about others first. _Out of all of us, he deserves to get what he wants out of life_ , he thought.

If Quatre made it through this, he wanted to spend their days together, experience things together. He wanted to get to know him better. He wanted barbecues and birthdays, holidays and even these hospital stays. He wanted to experience the exciting times and the everyday, mundane things together.

If that was love, well then, yeah he did.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied before taking another pull of coffee. There was the taste. Hospital coffee really was bad.

He glanced over at the woman beside him. He didn’t know what to expect from her, but the prospects didn’t worry him like he’d worried over Rashid. Her smile was bittersweet and full of understanding. “To be honest, that’s a relief,” she said. “I was honestly more than a little concerned he would end up dating someone who wouldn’t be able to know what he did. He’s not a very good liar.”

Trowa chuckled into his coffee. “No he’s not,” he agreed with a grin as he remembered their hallway encounter with Heero and Duo. He certainly was not indeed.

“I think it would be hard on him,” she continued, studying her own drink. “Having to keep such an important part of his life a secret.” Trowa tore his eyes away from Quatre once again and looked at her. This time it was she who watched Quatre through the glass. He could see the concern she had for him. All the love and expectations an older sister had for her brother wrapped in a layer of worry were etched on her across her face.

His heart sank at the sight and nothing he could say would make a difference.

After several moments of silence, Trowa remembered overhearing Rashid’s conversation. He knew it wasn’t the best time to ask, but he needed to know. “You and Rashid talked about pulling the plug.” Standing so close together, he felt her startle at the mention of it.

“It’s a medical question,” she replied as she regained her composure, glancing at him and then back to Quatre. “It had to be answered.” Her voice softened. “We told them we weren’t ready to make that decision. We haven’t come to that bridge yet.”

Sipping on his coffee, watching Quatre lay there, Trowa couldn’t help but wonder how quickly they were coming up to it.

_______________________________________________________________

His eyelids were too heavy to open, as much as he tried. They felt like they were held down by stones. No point fighting that. So he chose to listen.

He could hear the unemotional sound of a machine beeping at regular intervals. Occasionally people would walk past, their shoes clicking against the hard floor drowning out whatever it was they were whispering about.

He could feel his throat constrict against something as he breathed. At first, it almost caused him to panic, but he quickly realized his ability to pull in air wasn’t restricted. That settled his nerves slightly, though he wasn’t quite sure what was going on. He didn’t feel in danger, so at least there was that.

Involuntarily, his fingers twitched. A warm hand wrapped around his and squeezed. A voice close to him became raised, yelling something, though his groggy mind couldn’t make out the words.

Suddenly he heard multiple feet approaching, along with several voices talking amongst each other. The hand squeezed his again and suddenly the air in his lungs felt different. His ability to breath hadn’t diminished thankfully, but he certainly didn’t feel like he was getting as much as he was before.

More talking. Suddenly the thing in his throat was pulled out, relieving the pressure it had caused. He coughed reflexively, but the irritation quickly disappeared and he was able to breathe freely, without that annoying pressure.

And then he thought he heard someone call his name. He tried to get to it.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. A gray ceiling stared back at him. His eyes drifted closed again. They still felt heavy, enough so that he could almost fall back asleep, but the voice called his name again. His eyes fluttered open once more and he found it easier to keep them open this time.

He blinked, trying to orient himself. The hand squeezed his again and the voice called out to him for a third time. He tilted his head to the side. That too was difficult, but manageable. His whole body felt like cement.

Blue-grey eyes stared back at him. Sandy colored hair framed an angular face filled with tears. Iria.

Suddenly he remembered. Kozlov had shot him. Twice. He must have passed out. It was the only logical explanation. It must have been bad for Iria to worry enough to come to wherever they were. He felt guilty for causing that kind of trouble.

Her grip on his hand tightened, no doubt afraid to let go. With the other, she reached toward his face and gently pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “We really should stop meeting like this,” he said, though his voice sounded terribly scratchy to his ears.

Iria smiled and laughed through a sob that escaped her lips. She leaned forward enough to put her head against his, holding him as tight as she dared, and cried.

________________________________________________________________

 

Trowa sat at a table with Heero and Wufei. Done with their food, Duo and Rashid had both gone outside to take phone calls. Hilde had called Duo, checking on them no doubt. He didn’t know who had called Rashid. Iria probably. Rashid may be Quatre’s legal guardian, but as the doctor of the two, she had taken de facto command over his medical care.

His own meal had long been picked over. There hadn’t been much there in the first place. Anxiety seemed to be his preference du jour for the past several days, leaving little room for anything else besides coffee.

He’d noticed the concerned glances his friends had traded when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t blame them for their concern, but he wasn’t about to order more food than he knew he’d eat. Doing so was just wasteful nor was there any point in making himself sick trying to force extra food down.

He only half listened as his companions discussed the progress made by the Preventers and local law enforcement agencies. Mobile suit forces had officially retreated from the area and were on transport carriers back to Preventer’s main supply base. Martial Law had been lifted, as had the curfews. The Prime Minister was back at his office, though certainly shaken by his ordeal. His family was doing well and had reportedly sought the assistance of a counselor to help them deal with the emotional trauma of their experience. Four days after Preventer had successfully put down the Eurussian Conflict, Castonev still hadn’t been seen and Trowa feared he’d disappeared into thin air.

A knock on the glass window drew the attention of all three of them. Duo’s face was split almost in two from the smile he wore. Even Rashid looked thoroughly pleased. Trowa felt his heart skip several beats, though he begged it not to get carried away. With a small gesture, the big man beckoned them over. Trowa was out of his seat and halfway to the door before his friends had even finished cleaning up their table.

He was breathless, even though he shouldn’t have been, as he pushed the door open and walked out into the brisk autumn air. Rashid was practically beaming as he approached. “Master Quatre’s awake.”

“Just up and snapped out of it,” Duo added as the three of them made their way to the SUV Rashid had rented. Trowa’s heart began to race in excitement as the others caught up to them as they all piled into the car. Rashid pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic. Trowa felt a weight lift off his shoulders even as his stomach twisted inside as they made their way to the hospital. It was a relief to know he’d woken up, but now they had to face just how much damage had been done.

A short time later, Trowa followed the others down the hall as they made their way to Quatre’s room. Only Heero walked beside him as everyone else hurried along in front. He had to admit, he was thankful for the silent company. He was excited to see how Quatre was doing, but the thought also put a fair bit of fear into him. Rashid’s phone call hadn’t given any indication of what if any side effects Quatre was experiencing from being in a coma.

Reflexively, he braced himself as he approached Quatre’s room. His stomach felt like it was doing somersaults and he was thankful he hadn’t eaten much earlier. He pulled in a shaky breath as they came up to the door. He could see Quatre clearly through the glass. He still looked pale, but he was awake and talking. His bed had been adjusted to an almost sitting position, so he didn’t have to expend the energy to do it himself.

Iria was in there, as was Abdul and Auda, plus Rashid, Sally, Duo, and Wufei. The room felt crowded enough without the addition of Heero and himself, but they went in anyway. Quatre’s eyes flicked over to them as they walked in and that smile of his lit up the room.

“How do you feel?” Heero asked. Trowa was sure Quatre had already been asked that question more than twice, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Like I got run over by that suit again,” he replied. His voice was raspy. No doubt a result from the ventilator that had kept him breathing over the last several days.

“Close enough,” Wufei said with a shrug.

Quatre’s eyes met his own briefly and they held that familiar warmth he’d that grown to expect from the blonde. Duo pulled the guy’s attention by asking “How many lives you got left?”

A small round of laughter went around the room at the joke.

“Again?” Rashid’s baritone asked suspiciously. Quatre’s stiffened and the ‘oh shit’ look on his face was thoroughly amusing. Apparently, his initial encounter with the Monstrosity hadn’t already been disclosed. The likelihood of him getting a lecture in the near future seemed all but assured.

Abdul and Auda hadn’t missed the slip either and the pair pressed the injured blonde for details like a pair of mother hens. Trowa leaned against the far wall, content to watch as Quatre tried to once again downplay the incident. Considering his current position in a hospital bed, he was less than convincing. At least he certainly seemed to be doing alright, despite what he’d gone through.

The doctor walked in, causing everyone to turn their heads. Quietly, she asked for both Rashid and Iria, who exited the room with her while Duo launched into a rather animated third-party description of the Monstrosity’s work on Quatre’s original Taurus. The alarmed expressions of the two senior Maguanac officers sealed what would eventually become Quatre’s fate.

From his position near the door, Trowa picked up broken pieces of conversation between the doctor and the dual heads of Quatre’s family. Something about the MRI and CT scans being normal. So, he thought, barring complications, he'll be just fine. That certainly was good news.

He turned his attention back to Quatre. The conversation inside the room had turned to catching the guy up on what had happened while he had been unconscious. Trowa watched and listened.

Slowly, he began to realize just how large Quatre’s ‘family’ truly was. Iria was kind, very much like Quatre himself, but there were 28 other sisters. How did that even work? What if they didn’t approve? He didn’t doubt Quatre would tell any naysayers off, but still...It was bad enough that Cathy didn’t like Quatre. She’d softened her overt dislike of the guy since he’d fallen apart on the phone over his condition, but Trowa knew it was still there. He really didn’t want to think about how complicated things would get if more people piled on to that particular wagon.

Then there were the 40 Maguanac soldiers. Rashid had accepted him and his relationship with Quatre, but what about the others? Every one of those guys acted like fussy mothers when it came to Quatre. The only reason they all weren’t piled in here was because the hospital staff had put their foot down on visitor limits. And he’d thought six people in a room with Quatre had been a lot.

Trowa was jolted out of his ruminations when Quatre’s scratchy voice asked about Castonev. The whole room went quiet for several heartbeats. Yes, it was Kozlov that had been the one who shot him, but Castonev had instigated everything that had happened in the last week.

Castonev had separated his Eurussia from the Earth Sphere Unified Nation. It was he who started military action in the first place, foregoing any continued peace talks. It was Castonev who let his psycho nephew in the cockpit of a mobile suit that was designed specifically to kill other pilots and it was also Kozlov who eventually tortured and shot Quatre. And it was Castonev who gave the order to capture Trowa and Wufei in the first place rather than simply killing them on the battlefield, which led to Quatre coming to rescue them. Castonev was ultimately responsible for what happened to Quatre.

But also, so was he.

It really couldn’t have been helped, if he was honest with himself. Quatre had been in a tight spot, pinned down by that Monstrosity suit again. That thing certainly was a wicked beast and Kozlov, its pilot, seemed to have harbored a particular dislike for Quatre. Trowa had been fortunate that he’d been within range to shell the hell out of that suit, distracting it enough to allow Quatre to escape. He hadn’t been able to escape the Eurussian suit though. One powerful slam of that pummeling ram had snapped his head backward with enough force to knock him out, despite the protective support of his helmet.

They’d been outfought that day. The Gundam pilots hadn’t been good enough. _He_ hadn’t been good enough. His own inability to keep himself and his mobile suit safe had directly resulted in Quatre leading a damned dangerous rescue mission. In the days since Quatre had been hospitalized, Trowa had been informed that he’d almost perished with the helicopter and its pilots that had gone down while unloading his team.

He felt like an absolute heel for almost causing Quatre’s death. He certainly had a far better appreciation of Quatre’s feelings regarding the incident with Wing Zero during the war. _Perhaps this will equal itself out and he can forgive himself for that mistake_ , he thought as he continued to watch Quatre interact with the others. Duo appeared to be picking on the blonde like an older brother Quatre’d never had.

They were even now. Even, but not the same. Quatre was bright, capable, and kind. A born leader with a passion to make the world better. He was selfless. He was also magnetic and outgoing, exceedingly popular.

He, on the other hand, was reserved, quiet, and introverted. He enjoyed being with others, but it wasn’t a necessity. He’d always been alone. Even while being raised by the mercenary group when he was younger and surrounded by all those guys, Trowa had always been singular. A lone exception. And that had been fine. He was accustomed to that particular role.

Taking on the solitary role of a Gundam pilot in 195 had fit perfectly into who he was as an individual. He’d even acted as a lone spy on not one, but two occasions. Once as an OZ officer, ironically leading up to the showdown between OZ and the newly built Wing Zero, piloted by Quatre and the other when he’d positioned himself inside Mariemaia’s army.

Joining the circus and carving a comfortable life with the traveling band was also a reflection of who he was. Originally, joining had served a purely functional role of providing a cover for his missions. Eventually, though, it had felt like home and the familiar process of constantly moving satisfied his rambling upbringing. And now, after accepting Lady Une’s terms in joining Preventer so he could go after Castonev, he was likely walking into covert operations. Black ops. That meant dangerous work and lots of hours with a minimal social life, if at all.

Where Quatre’s life was stable and on a predetermined path, his was fluid and uncertain. Quatre was set to be in the public eye for the rest of his life while Trowa was walking into secrecy. They were opposites. And while opposites may attract, they don’t necessarily make lasting bonds. Their budding romantic relationship might be exciting and dynamic, but hardly a recipe for anything long term.

It didn’t help that the potential for being discovered as a Gundam pilot would undoubtedly increase with him around. Quatre was a Gundam pilot and soon to take over a multi-million dollar company. His media exposure was enough to warrant a rather thick Preventer file pertaining to the odds of being outed as a Gundam pilot. His life course alone put him at the highest risk of being discovered out of all the pilots. That particular combination had the potential to deal a fatal blow to the company’s weakened reputation. Quatre’s socioeconomic future, along with all the livelihoods of those it employs, plus Quatre’s own physical safety would be at risk if he were outed as a Gundam pilot.

Doubling down on the danger of getting exposed was the equivalent of asking for trouble. Quatre deserved the life he was trying to create. None of the other Gundam pilots would ever have found themselves in Quatre’s orbit if not for their roles in the war. It was risky enough keeping in contact with the others the way he had. If they were to actually date…Trowa was a risk. Plain and simple.

Quatre could do better and deserved someone who could walk in step with him. Someone who didn’t have to worry about blowing his own cover or increasing Quatre’s own risk of exposure. Despite the ache in his chest as he watched the others give the smiling blonde a hard time, he wondered if it would be kinder to quit before they went too far down this road.

_______________________________________________________________

Two days later and almost a full week after the Preventers had put an end to Castonev’s insurgency and Quatre’s initial hospitalization, Trowa was sitting in the corner of the room, reading a book while Quatre and Wufei played chess as Duo watched from the sidelines.

Quatre had undergone numerous medical tests in the last couple of days, making sure his body wasn’t throwing any curve balls. He still wasn’t exhibiting any negative effects of his ordeal, so now the concern was mainly that he wouldn’t throw a blood clot as his internal wounds continued to heal. Despite the risk of a clot, the doctors were reluctant to put him on blood thinners, especially since he’d almost bled out once before after his first operation.

For now, they had been told to expect him to stay in the ICU for a couple more weeks, just to be safe. That meant a lot of boring days ahead for the young Winner heir. Rashid had reluctantly begun feeding him missed school assignments, though the time he spent on them was kept to a minimum.

Likewise, Trowa had kept his alone time with him minimal as well, preferring to visit with the company of others. When he did find himself alone with Quatre, he made it a point to keep enough physical distance between them to avoid giving off any romantic signals. Quatre hadn’t pressed him about his behavior. Instead, they’d been able to keep their conversations firmly in safe, mundane territory, for which he was thankful, but he was painfully aware of the confused and hurt expressions Quatre threw his way.

He wasn’t ready to leave Quatre completely, but he had to admit, he wasn’t sure what to do about what they’d gotten themselves into. He still believed in his assessment. Quatre would be better off, safer even, with someone else, but on some level, he continued to cling to what they’d started in the last couple of weeks. It certainly hadn’t helped him figure out what to do. So he’d fallen back to the training that had kept him alive for his whole life, searching for the logical answer, the correct course of action.

He hadn’t yet found his answer.

His inner thoughts were disturbed by a knock on the glass window to Quatre’s room. Everyone’s heads turned to stare at Heero who motioned for Trowa to join him in the hall. Realizing he’d just been staring at the same page for the last ten minutes, Trowa shut the thing and set it down in the chair he promptly vacated. He felt Quatre’s calculating eyes bore into his back as he left the room.

Heero turned his back to the window and leaned against it, crossing his arms as he did so. He followed suit, tucking his hands in his pockets as he placed his back against the glass, blocking Quatre’s concerned stare from view.

“We have a lead on Castonev,” Heero said quietly.

Trowa’s mind raced at the news. They had a lead? Finally! “Where?” he asked. Even he could hear the hard edge in his voice.

“Singapore. He appears to be planning on getting on an arms smuggler’s boat that’s headed for Columbia. We’re leaving to intercept it.”

And there it was. The team he hadn’t even been introduced to was being called up. “How long?” he asked through the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

“Five minutes,” Heero replied. He fixed him with a steady expression. “You can always stay, Trowa. Quatre’s got a long recovery ahead. You don’t _have_ to be in on this.”

He nodded thoughtfully. He heard what Heero was saying. No, he didn’t _have_ to do this. But he _needed_ to do it all the same. He returned Heero’s even expression. “I’m coming, Heero.”

His friend stared at him for several moments before backing off. “Alright,” he said with a shrug. “You’re with me, then. Five minutes.”

Trowa placed a thankful hand on Heero’s shoulder as he pushed off the window and went back inside.

“Guys, let me have the room,” he said, standing in the middle of the room.

Duo and Wufei shared concerned expressions with each other before acquiescing. Silently the two left, giving himself and Quatre some much-needed privacy. Quatre regarded him critically as he stood in front of the bed-ridden blonde, staring right back. It felt a bit odd, being alone with him after two days of almost constantly being in a group. It was mostly his own doing, but still, it didn’t make what he was about to do any easier.

He could see the thoughts spinning around in Quatre’s head as they watched each other. The guy had always been sensitive and oddly correct in regards to some unexplainable assumptions. Heero had told him about Quatre’s inexplicable, albeit eventually correct, belief in his survival after he had gone missing after the incident with Wing Zero. Trowa had wondered, if not for the first time, whether Quatre somehow knew things the others didn’t.

He had that same feeling right now, though even a blind man would have been able to tell something was up. Clearing the room for a private conversation wasn’t exactly a reassuring move.

With a deep breath to steady himself, he walked forward and sat down on the foot of Quatre’s bed. It was close enough for them to talk quietly, but still a safe, friendly position. It was the closest they’d been to each other since Quatre had been admitted.

Those gorgeous big blue eyes studied him intently, calculating and hard. It wasn’t just Quatre his friend staring back at him or even Quatre his lover, but Quatre the Gundam pilot. He knew something serious was about to go down. Trowa thought he could even feel it in the air, but then again, that might just be the air filtration system.

“I have to go,” he said quietly. He could feel multiple pairs of eyes watching the two of them from the other side of the glass. He kept his eyes on Quatre and if the guy felt eyes on them too, he didn’t show it.

“Why?” The question was simple and plain. Trowa had expected more emotion than that.

“We have a chance to catch Castonev and I don’t want to miss it.” He watched Quatre carefully. Only a small flicker of anger and pain passed his attractive, if still pale, features. Again, less emotion than he’d expected.

“Do you have to go?” There it was. The hint of sadness, of longing. It pulled at his heart. Didn’t change anything though.

“Yes.”

There was a protracted pause before Quatre’s soft voice asked another question. “How long will you be gone?” The evenness was back. Straight and to the point.

“Not sure. Hopefully only a day or two,” he replied.

“Will you come back?”

The question surprised him more than it should. He thought for a moment, unsure how to answer. If he really would be gone for only a couple days, even with the requisite post-op debriefing, Quatre would have at least another week and a half in the hospital. There was no reason for him to not come back unless his orders changed.

Was he ready for that? They’d be right back where they were today or yesterday or the day before that. Maybe this was the universe's way of telling them to slow down. Maybe they were being given time to think, figure things out.

“I don’t know,” he said. Best to be honest. “I can’t promise anything.”

Quatre’s eyes dropped to his lap and nodded. His hands began to fiddle with something that didn’t seem to be there. He watched Quatre for a moment before rising and leaving the room again.

Duo walked up to him as he paused next to Heero. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Duo asked, putting his hands on his hips. Trowa half-turned towards him. His voice was deep, pointed, and accusatory. “The guy hasn’t been awake for three whole days and you’re running off.”

“We have to get Castonev, Duo,” he replied cooly. He’d already made up his mind. He really didn’t feel like getting into an argument over it. He glanced back in the hospital room. Quatre was still looking dejectedly at his bedsheets. He tore his gaze away and looked back to Duo. “Keep an eye on him, okay?”

That seemed to deflate the guy’s anger. “Sure thing,” he replied. “Just don’t go getting yourself killed trying to get this guy.”

He gave him a small smile. Duo would take care of Quatre. The two were probably as close to brothers as the blonde was ever going to get without counting his sisters’ in-laws. “Thanks, Duo.”

With a final glance back at Quatre, he followed Heero down the hall and out of sight.

________________________________________________________________

The last several weeks had turned into a blur. Between the doctors, the nurses, the tests, and the mothering he’d received by...pretty much everyone, he was ready to leave. He’d never liked hospitals and the frequency with which he’d found himself in them over the course of the last two years didn’t do them any favors in his opinion.

He shimmied into the jeans Rashid had brought him and put on his belt. He’d always been a slender guy, but as he fastened his belt tighter than he usually needed to, fighting with the leather around the previously unused notch in his belt, even he had to admit that he’d lost more weight in the three weeks he’d been hospitalized than he probably should have.

Despite the fact that he was physically cleared to eat normal, solid food again, he hadn’t been all that hungry. Coupled with the sheer physical effects of being shot, he’d lost a fair bit of weight. The doctors had said it wasn’t uncommon for shooting victims to experience weight loss, so apparently, that was a thing. He hadn’t needed to diet before the Eurussian conflict started nor had he needed it during the crisis. He certainly wouldn’t be suggesting getting shot as a feasible dietary trend to anybody.

He traded his hospital socks with the sticky padding on the bottoms for a real pair of socks, then completely discarded the hospital gown he’d been wearing. It was freeing to get out of the damned thing. He glanced in the mirror as he picked up his shirt. He wasn’t happy with how bony he’d gotten. He definitely looked underfed. All that muscle definition he’d been working on was gone.

He pulled his arms through the light blue button-down and gave it an irritated flick so it would lay right before he fastened the buttons. He shivered and grabbed the yellow sweater his sister had brought and put that on too, fixing the collar of his button down to fold over the neckline of the sweater. It was a size larger than what was necessary, but it was warm, soft, and comforting.

It was still only September. The days were warm with only a teasing chill in the evenings, but even the gentle breeze that drifted outside, playing with the trees on the other side of his window would likely bite right through him. Between all the blood and muscle loss, getting cold rather quickly had become part of his body’s new normal and he was silently grateful his sister had thought about that when she’d presented the sweater to him earlier in the morning.

He’d certainly been too tired last night to do any planning for his discharge. Despite the fact that all he did was rest (and a little school work here and there), he sure did tire easily. He was usually exhausted and asleep by seven or eight in the evening. Already, the energy he’d expended simply by getting dressed was making him tired and it wasn’t even noon yet. The doctors had warned him about that too. His body would take months, if not a year before it was truly back to pre-shooting condition.

He sighed as he looked in the mirror. He self-consciously ran a hand through his hair, trying to quiet the bed head he had going on. He had to admit, he was a right hot mess. Not that it mattered much. No one would be around who would care. He was leaving the hospital, not going to school and certainly not going to work.

With another sigh, he turned off the light and left the bathroom. Rashid was waiting for him in his room. “Ready, Master Quatre,” he asked. Quatre nodded. He’d been ready to get out of here two weeks ago. He threw a hesitant look over his shoulder as he left what, until now, had been his hospital room before following Rashid out the door and down the hall.

Rashid led the way through the maze that was the hospital hallways, for which he was thankful. It was much easier to follow than having to know where he was going. Even after two weeks of being allowed some amount of limited exercise, he’d always managed to get lost in here.

They had to briefly stop at the admissions desk and sign some papers and pick up his instructions for following up with another doctor in Wilmington when he returned home. After that, he was free.

A car was already waiting for them as they exited the hospital. Iria’s smiling face greeted him. No one else was around to make a fuss over him. Over the course of the past two weeks, Rashid had sent the Maguanacs back to their own families. Quatre was more than content to settle into his seat in the car, keep to himself, and take a nap on the ride to the airport.

The other Gundam pilots had also eventually left. At the beginning of his second week in the hospital, Wufei and Sally Po had received orders from Preventer that they were needed on another mission. Duo had stayed throughout the rest of the week and he’d been great company, but eventually, he’d had to return to Hilde.

He didn’t remember what had happened to Heero or Trowa. Unexplained disappearances were common from Heero, expected even, but he’d been particularly hurt and more than a little confused at the sudden and inexplicable disappearance of Trowa.

He’d been weird in the days leading up to his absence as well. He avoided, to the best of his ability, being alone together and, alone or not, he’d acted as if nothing had changed between them since the war with the colonies. It was as if the guy had never kissed him in front of everyone in the docking bay, as if they hadn’t begun a romantic relationship, like those two nights they’d shared hadn’t happened. They’d been scorching hot together not that long ago and obviously involved together. Enough so that even their enemy had used it against them.

Now he was ice cold. Like nothing had happened. It didn’t make sense and it hurt.

He’d noticed the pointed looks that had been shared between Iria and Rashid. They obviously wanted to ask him about it but had thankfully kept their questions to themselves. He didn’t have the energy to fight with them over something even he didn’t understand.

He felt the car slow down. He picked his head up slowly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. They were in front of a drop off terminal. Rashid and Iria were both getting out of the car. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position before focusing on opening the door and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

Rashid grabbed two mid-sized suitcases from the trunk while Iria pulled him into a hug. He was suddenly struck by the fact that they were now the same height. He hadn’t noticed that before. He wasn’t as small as he had been when they’d first met two years ago, but things hadn’t changed all that much. She’d taken care of him back then when he’d been plucked from outer space, almost dead, and she’d taken care of him this time too.

“Take care of yourself Quatre,” she said into his ear. “Rashid has the number of the doctor I want you to check in with. He knows how to be discreet and you won’t have to worry about anyone connecting you to Preventer.” Always looking out for him.

“Call me if you need me and I’ll see you in December, okay?” He could hear her voice crack.

She had to return to the natural resource satellite she worked at near their home colony in L4, so she wouldn’t be flying back to Europe with himself and Rashid. He’d expected leaving each other would be difficult. They’d grown incredibly close since the war.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her as tight as he dared. “I’ll be fine,” he said into her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that he felt threatening to make an appearance. He didn’t want her to leave.

After a brief, tight squeeze from his sister, she untangled herself from him and held him at arm’s length. A sad smile graced her face. “Get him out of here,” she told Rashid, who promptly guided him through the airport to their flight gate.

First class had just been called and he once again followed as Rashid led them to their seats. The big man gave him the window seat, which was fine by him. He felt exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open as the plane took off. Shifting in his seat, he tucked his legs underneath him and rested his head against his propped up arm against the windowpane. Within minutes he was fast asleep, flying away from Eurussia and the Preventers. Flying away from Trowa.


	22. Chapter 22

**Two Months Later:**

Duo stared at Quatre from the other side of the computer’s vid screen. He finally looked healthier than he had in the months after being critically shot. Most of the weight he had lost during his recovery in the hospital had come back. The sickly pallor of his skin was gone and his face was once again bright and healthy.

Since they’d met, Quatre had always been energetic and a positive thinker, but apparently the shooting had changed that. It hadn’t been long after he’d woken up from his coma that he’d become withdrawn and morose. His release from the hospital hadn’t improved his mood. Since they’d met, Quatre had always been energetic and a positive thinker. It wasn’t like him and that concerned Duo greatly.

The blonde sat with one foot propped on the edge of his chair while the other kept in contact with the floor, anchoring him in place. Duo had recognized the defensive posture immediately.

“I thought you would be excited to see Trowa again,” he said. A few days ago, Quatre had called him up with the news that Rashid was taking a trip to Preventer’s headquarters in order to plead his case for the return of at least one of the Maguanac’s mobile suits.

In the aftermath of the Eurussian Conflict, the government had ordered both Eurussian and Maguanac mobile suits destroyed. While not totally opposed to the decision, Rashid and the others hoped to save at least one suit as a monument to the group’s actions.

The topic regarding the Maguanac suits had been delayed, taking a back seat to more pressing matters. Two months after the resolution of the week-long conflict with the now dissolved Eurussia, the fate of the Middle Eastern suits was up for discussion and, thus Rashid was scheduled to plead their case.

The closed-door meetings with the National Security Council, which included both Preventer Director, Lady Une as well as the ESUN’s President, Vice President, and Foreign Minister, were scheduled to span a full week. That would leave Quatre alone for that same time and apparently Rashid wasn’t entirely comfortable with that thought. Duo didn’t blame him. Somewhat shockingly, he’d managed to get in contact with Trowa, who had practically disappeared along with Heero only days after Quatre had woken up from his coma, and convinced the guy to essentially babysit for a week.

Despite Quatre’s insistence that he could survive a week on his own, Rashid had remained unconvinced and when Trowa had agreed to take the time off work, the matter had been settled. He had to give his friend’s legal guardian solid props for the move. The man seemed rather clever to orchestrate a reunion of sorts.

Quatre had avoided discussing anything regarding Trowa with either him or Rashid, putting another notch in the blonde’s ‘not himself’ category. After fretting himself to pieces over Quatre’s comatose condition, enough to drastically decrease his own appetite, Trowa had immediately friend-zoned Quatre after the guy had woken up.

His heart had gone out to Quatre. The guy had obviously been hurt by the about-face and after two months of home recovery, it was apparent that the issue still weighed heavily on him, even if he refused to talk about it and his own attempts to feed the blonde some optimism certainly hadn’t worked.

“It’s not that,” replied Quatre. His blonde head dipped behind his knee, leaving only his eyes and the top of his head visible as he wrapped his arms around his tented leg, hugging it closer to his body. His eyes took on a distracted gaze and Duo had a pretty good idea what he was thinking about. “It’s not the visit that bothers me per say. Just the reason.”

Liar, he thought. Quatre had spent the last two months avoiding any topic pertaining to a certain someone. There was no way Rashid’s insistence on not leaving him alone was the reason for his sullen mood.

“I think he’s afraid that something bad will happen to me if he’s not here,” Quatre continued. But it’s been two months. My body is healing fine. I’m going back to school next week. I don’t need looking after.”

Duo shrugged within his metal frame. They’d beaten this dead horse before. It wasn’t helpful to rehash it again when it wouldn’t do any good. Trowa was arriving today, whether Quatre liked it or not. “Just think about it as an approved week-long date.”

____________________________________________________________

Quatre pinned Duo with an annoyed glare. It was something of a taboo topic between them and he didn’t appreciate the reminder. He couldn’t blame Duo for having good intentions, but he wished the guy would learn to let some matters drop.

Since his hospitalization Trowa had shown no indication of any romantic feelings towards him whatsoever. Regardless of whether he was with other visitors or alone with him, the other pilot had been nothing except politely concerned for his health. The treatment was a complete one-eighty from the direction their relationship had turned in the several days preceding Trowa’s capture and subsequent rescue attempt in which he’d had been so grievously wounded.

Such a drastic and sudden change in Trowa’s attitude had begun to feed a fear that his attraction to him had been a situational manifestation rather than an equal reciprocation of love. Quatre was pessimistically hedging his bet, trying not to get his hopes up regarding Trowa’s true feelings. He had to admit, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to the other’s arrival.

His attention was grabbed by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. He glanced over his shoulder, looking out into the hallway, and in the general direction of the front door. He could hear Rashid saying something about an earlier flight from the kitchen.

He sighed. Guess he was early.

“I gotta go Duo,” Quatre said as he turned toward the computer. The vid screen went black before Duo could even offer a reply. He quickly turned off the computer and forced himself out of his room and into the hallway. As much as he didn’t want to see him, it would be rude of him not to greet his temporary house guest.

Hand sliding along the sleek railing, his bare feet pit-patted as he descended the stairs. Rashid glanced his way as the bigger man crossed the living room from the kitchen while the doorbell rang. Quatre noted with irritation the cheeky glint in Rashid’s eye. _Bastard_ , he thought. _He’d planned this whole thing._

As Rashid opened the door, Quatre’s heart felt heavy like a stone. His stomach turned in knots. In this moment he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

_______________________________________________________________

Trowa had to take a steadying breath before ringing the doorbell as the cab drove off. He wasn’t sure what to expect in the next few moments, let alone the next week and he felt more nervous than seemed logical.

Truth be told, he had been shocked as just about anyone when Rashid had gotten a hold of him out of the blue a week ago and asked him to keep an eye on Quatre while he was away. He hadn’t spoken to Quatre since before he had been discharged from the hospital.

Even though he was more than happy to do the task, it would have made more sense for someone else to watch the guy. He suspected Rashid had ulterior motives for asking him specifically, though he hadn’t had the courage to ask him about it. Rashid was still an intimidating figure to him, especially when his young master’s welfare was involved.

Not to mention any conversation with him regarding a romantic relationship with Quatre would be downright awkward. It was a situation best left avoided.

When he had discussed the invitation with Heero he had mostly received the same sage advice the guy always seemed to give: act on your emotions. So he had told Rashid that of course, he would come look after Quatre for a while. Though now that he was here, Heero’s advice didn’t seem to apply considering his emotions were everywhere all at once.

It had taken a bit of scheduling magic to get him here, but now that he was, he felt the urge to get the hell away as fast as he could and that directly warred with the anticipation of seeing Quatre again. Anxiety over the kind of reception he would receive had him on edge. The muscles in his back were tight from tension and he couldn’t push it away.

He heard Rashid’s heavy footsteps grow closer before the big man’s face appeared behind the paned glass that decorated the oak door. He had to force himself to breathe normally as the door opened, revealing the tall, broad-shouldered behemoth that was Rashid Kurama.

And several paces behind him, halfway between the stairway and the door stood beautiful, brave, and amazingly alive Quatre. Unsurprisingly, he was dressed in a button-up shirt and slacks, though the cream-colored sweater on top looked a size too big and a lack of socks made him appear as if he’d had to be pulled out of bed.

Trowa’s heart fluttered and his breath caught in his throat. Even looking half bedraggled, he looked so much better than the last time they had seen each other. During the last two months, Heero had relayed the information, via Duo, that Quatre had been having a difficult time putting weight back on.

The result was obvious. Where he had looked strong and fit back in September, now he looked frail, despite the weight he’d regained. Trowa estimated that, if Quatre’s progress held, it would be another month before he finally returned to his pre-combat weight. Another four to six months of careful, gradual exercise would be needed to rebuild his diminished lung capacity and muscle strength.

Quatre’s eyes met his, though the vibe he got from him wasn’t exactly warm. The blonde’s face was difficult to read, which was unusual. Trowa had never encountered such an emotionless Quatre. Even during the incident with Wing Zero, Quatre had been angry, full of outrage and pain. Now, he just seemed lost. Quatre had always worn his feelings on his sleeve.

_Not now, apparently._

Trowa was acutely aware of Quatre watching him with hesitation. The tension was thick enough that he was sure even Rashid could feel it. Quatre looked like he was about ready to bolt away any second, even if he didn’t seem to have the ability.

“Welcome, Trowa. Come on in.” he heard Rashid’s voice rumble over him. It forced him to pull his eyes away from Quatre and refocus. He stepped forward as the big man stepped back to let him in.

“Thanks,” Trowa said a lot more calmly than he felt.

Quatre looked thoroughly uncomfortable at his arrival. The expression on his face was close enough to neutral, but his body language was all wrong. He’d shoved both hands in his pockets, but instead of the confident posture he normally held, Quatre’s shoulders slumped. He seemed to be subconsciously trying to become as small and unnoticeable as possible.

He was fearful, defensive. Quatre didn’t want him here.

Trowa felt his heart sink to the floor.

“Hi, Trowa.” Quatre’s quiet, neutral voice hit him like a brick. Despite the cool words, it made his pulse quicken. From the corner of his eye, he could see the disappointed expression pass over Rashid’s face as he considered the blonde. Apparently, the Maguanac leader had been expecting a different reception. But Quatre was alive and at least mostly healthy, so at least there was that. There was hope for the other things to be fixed in time.

“We weren’t expecting you for another few hours,” Rashid said, breaking the silence.

Trowa was grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, something happened and a passenger on an earlier flight needed to make a later flight instead, so the airline let us switch. I tried sending you a message so it wouldn’t be a surprise, but my phone died.”

“So long as it was a good flight. It just means lunch isn’t ready yet, but first things first,” Rashid said as a high pitched ding sounded from the kitchen. “I’ve already had the guest room made up for you.” The big man turned toward his young charge. “Master Quatre, why don’t you show him to his room while I finish lunch?”

It seemed to him that Quatre seemed to wither slightly at the prospect, but he said nothing against it however and Trowa was met with a painfully polite “Of course.”

________________________________________________________________

Quatre’s heart felt like it would tear itself to pieces as he stood at the base of the stairs. Under Trowa’s steady gaze, he’d had to force himself from bolting up to his room. Trowa looked just as handsome as ever. Those green eyes of his bore into his very soul. As upset as he was with him, the simple sight of him had threatened to take his breath away. He ruefully wished the guy didn’t have such an effect on him.

He’d wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor at Rashid’s suggestion. Even though he’d expected it, he hadn’t been entirely prepared for Rashid shoving him off to be alone with his former lover so quickly. The thought made him pause a moment. It had only been a few days, less than a week, but they _had_ crossed the friendship line, so he supposed “lover” would still be considered an accurate term, albeit a brief descriptor.

Memories of the nights they’d shared together rushed into his head. It brought back the pain of Trowa’s abandonment and that was something he simply didn’t have the strength to deal with right now, so he pushed them out of his head and forced himself to pay attention to the task at hand.

As much as he didn’t want Trowa around for a week, he didn’t want to act like a spoiled, surly brat. It was unbecoming. With that in mind, he forced his expression into what he hoped would pass for a semblance of neutrality. Regardless of the awkwardness of the situation, he was determined to be a proper host.

“There are only four rooms upstairs,” he explained as he turned around and started to make his way back upstairs.

Neutral words, neutral tone. Complete neutrality. That was how he was going to get through the week. That and maybe lots of sleeping.

He could hear Trowa pick up his suitcase and begin to follow him while Rashid retreated back into the kitchen. “Straight down the line, the first one’s mine, the second is Rashid’s, then the full bath and the last is the guest room.”

He silently congratulated himself on summoning enough energy to sound appropriately pleasant. _After this I’m going to need a nap_ , he thought to himself as they walked down the hall in silence until they reached the final room. He stopped at the end and faced the way they’d come as Trowa reached the guest room.

With the door already open, Trowa was able to walk right in, though he had to come within inches of brushing up against him in order to get through the doorway. Quatre held his breath as Trowa walked past. His body trembled as he fought the urge to run into his own room and shut himself away from the world. He pressed his back against the wall, thankful for its support. He’d tried to position himself as out of the way as possible, but the hallway was narrow, leaving very little room to avoid close contact.

______________________________________________________________________

Trowa rested his suitcase against the bed and turned back to face Quatre. What he saw made his heart sink. Quatre looked absolutely miserable with his head down, avoiding eye contact. He looked tired to Trowa. The bright, bubbly guy he’d come to know had been replaced with this drained, depressed version. It concerned him.

He wanted nothing more than to pull the blonde into him and hold him for all he was worth. It was obvious however that it wasn’t what Quatre wanted at all. The comfortable closeness they had developed was simply gone.

Rashid hadn’t mentioned the possibility of him being so uncomfortable with him here. He distinctly recalled being told that his visit would be a good thing, especially since he’d had to leave so soon after Quatre had woken up.

“Lunch is ready!

Rashid’s voice boomed throughout the house, causing Quatre to visibly startle. Trowa watched him closely. His eyes had gone wide and a panicked expression crossed his face. His chest rapidly rose and fell, trembling in a visible effort to calm his nerves and pull air into his lungs.

It happened quickly, lasting only a few seconds, but it had happened all the same. Quatre had drastically overreacted to a relatively normal household occurrence. But it had passed as quickly as it had come and Trowa filed the information away for later.

Trowa walked quietly behind Quatre as the blonde led the way back downstairs. He watched him with critical eyes. Something was wrong with him, more than just the physical toll a long recovery took on a body, and Trowa was determined to figure out what.

As they crossed the front door on his right, Trowa noticed a vast expanse of blue to his left. His feet slowed of their own accord until they stopped completely. Standing in the middle of the entryway, Trowa gazed out a large wall to ceiling window that made up the far wall of the living room.

The view of the ocean and, farther down the way, the harbor it provided was nothing short of breathtaking. Expensive pleasure boats and fishing vessels alike dotted the bright blue water. With hardly a cloud to be seen, the ocean blended seamlessly with the sky. It took him a moment to realize there was also a glass door nearest the kitchen that leads out to a large wooden deck.

“Everyone likes the view,” Quatre’s voice, barely audible floated across his ears, pulling his attention away from the seascape and back onto him. Quatre had stopped walking as well. He stood several paces ahead of him, his body half-turned in his direction. Their eyes met as they regarded one another. Quatre’s voice had been neutral, like before, but he thought he saw a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there previously.

Or at least he hoped he had because a moment later he was once again staring at Quatre’s back as he led the way into the kitchen. Rashid had set up sandwiches, fruit, and juice. The smell of homemade pie swirled lazily from the kitchen. Simple, yet effective.

Most of lunch was eaten as Rashid and Trowa discussed the most basic of polite catching-up talk as they sat next to each other. Quatre remained mostly silent and it didn’t go unnoticed by either of them that he didn’t eat much.

After the food was gone and pie had been enjoyed, even by Quatre, Rashid brewed a new batch of coffee and tea. “My flight leaves in a few hours, so I’ll be going. Trowa, I know you just arrived, but would you accompany me?”

Trowa’s normally calm face appeared noticeably surprised. “Sure,” he replied tentatively as he stared at Rashid questioningly, but the older man said nothing further on the matter.

_____________________________________________________________

Lunch proved to be just as uncomfortable as he had expected it to be. Quatre had to force himself to eat what he could, which turned out to be very little. His nerves were on edge after Rashid had called to them for lunch. He felt like a rocket with a lit fuse, but no direction, ready to shoot off in any which way at a moment’s notice. His senses were going ballistic, with Rashid’s parental concern and Trowa’s awkward worry. He felt them almost as if they were tangible objects. The weight of it all threatened to crush him. It was all he could do to focus on keeping himself together.

He hadn’t quite understood why he’d reacted the way he had. It wasn’t like Rashid hadn’t called him down to a meal before. He always did have a habit of forgetting meals while getting carried away in work. He’d just traded planning missions for studying AP Chemistry. It wasn’t an abnormal thing for Rashid to have done. So why did it affect him so?

The fear that had coursed through him had been immediate and strong. His heart had banged against his chest so hard, he’d almost been sure it had been audible and the tightness in his chest...for a brief moment he’d thought he’d gone back to the underground garage with Kozlov.

Thankfully the moment had passed quickly and Trowa hadn’t indicated that he’d noticed anything, so at least his minor freak out wouldn’t turn into a lecture.

Trowa...Quatre was able to keep the exasperated groan that formed from escaping his mouth. Why had Rashid brought him here? Rooted in good intentions surely, it was cruel nonetheless. Adalie, one of his youngest sisters, was currently taking a semester off of college and vacationing in France. She would have been a much better choice. Instead, Rashid had called Trowa.

There was no denying the guy was a tall drink of water, so much so that it should be illegal. Like having him standing in the middle of his living room, staring out of the far wall and into the harbor. Trowa’s attractiveness had been on full display right then. The long lines of his body, the sharpness of his jaw, and the hint of finely honed muscle underneath.

What was worse was that he knew the feel of him now. The hard muscle of his chest, the strength of his shoulders, the weight of him as he pressed against him. He knew the taste of him, knew the warmth of his mouth and the command of his tongue. He knew how he felt beneath his fingers.

A memory flashed in front of his eyes. Trowa taking him home on his motorcycle after dark. He had felt secure and warm with his arms wrapped around the taller pilot before Trowa dropped him off at home and drove away. Everything had been simpler back then. He wished he could go back to that evening.

He sighed. Even in spite of the cold treatment he’d received in the hospital and the two and a half months of silence between them, he still loved the guy. As difficult as it was to admit, there was no denying it either. He just wished Rashid had left well enough alone. Having the guy over for a week would not help him get over him in the least.

Rashid handing him a warm cup of tea brought him out of his thoughts and back to the present. He took the mug with a soft word of appreciation. He hugged the cup close as it’s warmth spread through his hands. There was just something about warm tea that helped put him at ease.

“My flight leaves in a few hours, so I’ll be going. Trowa, I know you just arrived, but would you accompany me?” Rashid asked. Quatre snapped his up, looking at Rashid in obvious confusion. _Pardon?_ _Why would he do that? He just got here. It doesn’t make an ounce of sense._

“Sure.” Trowa’s response wasn’t exactly shocking. It would have seemed impolite to refuse, but it was an odd request to ask in the first place and the unasked question in Trowa’s voice indicated to Quatre that he had been just as confused. Rashid didn’t seem to be too interested in elaborating further either, choosing to savor his coffee in silence.

He thought it rather odd that Trowa would arrive three hours early only to have Rashid ask him to accompany him _back to the airport_ with him, which would require Trowa to travel back home _again_. It just didn’t make sense, which was so out of character for either of them.

Quatre glared at Rashid over the rim of his tea, trying to figure out what the guy was up to, but to his credit, the big man stared right back with an expression as placid as can be. They knew each other too well.  
_____________________________________________________________________

Trowa watched with mild interest as Quatre and Rashid stared each other down. The blonde was obviously suspicious, but Rashid seemed solidly unphased by the downright withering glare is was receiving.

“Well, we best be going then,” Rashid announced after he had finished his coffee. Trowa followed suit as both men felt Quatre’s critical eyes watching their every move, trying to find any clue as to what was going on between them. _Always the strategist, looking for leverage_ , he thought to himself.

They were almost out of the room when Quatre called softly after them. “Travel safe.” Trowa glanced at Rashid from the corner of his eye. The bigger man’s heart seemed to be pulling at him.

The two of them got into the SUV that was parked in the garage. As Rashid settled into the driver's seat, Trowa’s mind turned to practical matters. “Your suitcase,” he asked.

“In the trunk,” the burly man responded before backing out and guiding the vehicle down the road. Trowa sat in silence for several minutes, waiting for Rashid to say something. He didn’t.

“He’s not okay,” he said eventually, turning toward Quatre’s closest confidante.

“No, he’s not,” Rashid replied. “He seems to be having a tough time of it. His appetite should have been back by now and, though he’s been dedicated to catching up with school, he isn’t flying through it like he was. It’s certainly not an aptitude problem. The interest just isn’t there anymore.”

“Has he been playing?” Trowa asked, referring to Quatre’s love of playing music. He always played, when happy or otherwise. Music grounded him.

Rashid shook his head. “Hasn’t even tried.” Trowa’s heart dropped. Two months. He hadn’t played for two months. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Why did you ask me here?” Trowa asked after another lengthy pause. “He wasn’t exactly happy to see me.”

“I know. I honestly expected him to be excited that you were coming over. I was hoping you might be able to bring some life back into him.”

Trowa crossed his arms and look out the window. He wasn’t sure Rashid’s plan was a good idea.“I think you miscalculated that one.”

Rashid shrugged and chanced a glance at the slender pilot. “I guess we’ll see.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Quatre sighed in relief when he heard the car drive off. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. He felt loss at Rashid’s leaving, but on the upside at least he would be alone for a while.

He opened his eyes and looked out the wall-length window in the living room. He could see mostly recreational yachts playing out in the harbor. He sipped his tea and watched them dance out on the ocean. It really was a wonderful view.

 _Trowa thought it was too_ , he told himself as he remembered the look on his face upon seeing the view for the first time. Quatre frowned. He didn’t want to think about Trowa, not while he had precious little alone time. He sipped at his tea some more, but Trowa kept crowding his thoughts.

Krept into his feelings too.

With a sigh, Quatre pushed himself up from the table and put his empty cup in the dishwasher. Quietly he plodded across the living room and back upstairs.

Time for a nap.

______________________________________________________________________

A few hours later Trowa parked the SUV in the garage and walked in the house. It was now early evening and the place looked deserted. Trowa walked into the kitchen. No Quatre. Dining room. No Quatre. His long legs carried him across the living room and up the stairs, looking around as he went. Still no Quatre.

At the landing, he looked down the dim hallway. Quatre’s bedroom door was closed. Carefully Trowa opened it, praying the hinges were well oiled. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt him if he was in there. The door was apparently on his side as it turned inward silently. The room was dark, but there was a noticeable Quatre-sized lump under the covers.

Trowa sighed. Rashid had warned him that he might be asleep when he got back. Apparently, he did that a lot. Rashid had admitted that he was worried about his young master. Quatre had begun distancing himself from the man, despite how close they had become. It was obvious that they had developed a father-son relationship.

Something had to be drastically wrong to cause Quatre to pull away from that. After taking into account his sullen behavior, the lack of interest in school and especially his music, and his earlier reaction in the hallway, Trowa was beginning to suspect a likely culprit.

He quietly closed the door and headed to his own room. Opening up his suitcase, he pulled out a few file folders full of papers and took them downstairs, making himself comfortable on the oversized couch. Just because he was here for a week didn’t mean he didn’t have homework of his own.

He couldn’t help worrying about Quatre though. Tomorrow was a new day and perhaps his suspicion would be disproven. He hoped so at least.

______________________________________________________________________

Quatre came downstairs the next morning, hair still damp from his shower. Dressed in pajama pants and another sweater that was a size too big, he padded into the kitchen for breakfast. He was several steps in when he realized that a certain tall brunette was at the oven making what smelled and sounded like bacon. It stopped him in his tracks.

At the same moment, Trowa seemed to realize that he was no longer alone and half turned, meeting Quatre’s blank stare with a bland look of his own. “I’m making breakfast.”

_Captain Obvious._

_Don’t be a jerk_ , he reminded himself. “Thanks,” he offered lamely as he walked over to the cabinets and pulled out dishware. Wishing once again that he was anywhere other than right where he was, he offered the plates to his former lover.

Apparently, the guy had been rather industrious this morning as evidenced by the vast amount of omelets he had made. Coupled with sausage, biscuits, and the bacon he was finishing, Trowa had made a huge meal. Quatre leaned in close to Trowa, looking around him and stared at the ungodly amount of food he was piling onto a large serving plate.

“You know there’s just two of us, right?”

Trowa’s mouth turned upwards in a small smile. He looked down at Quatre standing mere inches from him. For a moment they were comfortable together.

Quatre glanced up at the taller pilot, suddenly aware that the two of them were extremely close to each other. Their eyes met and he could see fondness there.  
Quatre felt his heart kick into overdrive and he hurriedly backed away. He silently chastised himself for trying to see things that weren’t really there in the first place and busied himself with finding them some silverware.

_____________________________________________________________

For a moment Trowa saw a brightness in his friend’s eyes when they looked at each other. It was a marked difference from the distancing behavior he had displayed yesterday. It gave him hope that Quatre might not be in as bad a shape as he had feared.

But then Quatre had pulled away, both physically and emotionally. The warm, inviting look in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a wary awkwardness. The change felt like the kick in the chest he’d received last year from the circus’ vaulting horse. Trowa regretted the distance the blonde had put between them. He wondered what had caused such a change in the kind, open person he had fallen in love with.

They ate in silence. Trowa was pleased to note that Quatre ate more food than he had the day before, though the fact that he had slept straight through dinner the night before concerned him. Quatre put the leftovers in containers and put it all in the fridge as Trowa rinsed the dishes off and started the dishwasher. _Perhaps today will be a better day for him_ , he thought positively.

“You seem like you’re feeling better…” he started to say when he noticed that Quatre was already walking out of the room without saying a thing. “Hey!” he called after him. It came out louder than he intended, but the surprise was still evident in his voice.

At least it was effectual. Quatre stopped in his tracks, though he didn’t turn around. In one stride Trowa was beside him. “Why don’t you talk to me?” he asked, dipping his head, trying to meet Quatre’s downcast eyes.

Quatre actively avoided him and began to step away. “I’d rather not,” came the dull response.

If two months of Rashid’s fatherly patience hadn’t gotten through to the guy, obviously a different approach was required and Trowa wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. He grabbed Quatre’s arm as gently as he could without letting him slip away. “That’s not good enough. This isn’t like you at all. What’s wrong?” he asked forcefully.

Quatre wheeled around sharply as Trowa grabbed his arm, eyes flashing in anger. “I got shot!” he yelled back. “I got shot and you left.”

Trowa’s hand dropped from Quatre’s arm and the two of them stared at each other for a long moment in shock. Slowly, things began to make sense. By the ‘oh shit’ look on his face, Trowa guessed that even Quatre hadn’t really understood what had been bothering him all this time either. He could see the anger that had come on so suddenly dissipate, as if it had never even been there, leaving Quatre looking utterly exhausted.

“Okay,” Trowa said softly.

He stepped forward and draped an arm around Quatre, pulled him in against his side, and started walking toward the living room. He was stiff against his lanky frame, but there wasn’t enough fight left in him to resist as Trowa guided him across the floor.

With his free hand, Trowa grabbed the large blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa as he pulled Quatre down onto the couch with him and wrapped them both in it. Quatre’s body remained tense, but at least he didn’t fight against him pulling him in close and holding him. Progress.

After a few minutes, he felt Quatre’s body soften against him. It took more energy to resist than to let go. Trowa absently ran a hand through Quatre’s hair. “I didn’t just leave,” he said. “I had a job to do, remember?”

“You acted like we were just friends and then you left right after I woke up,” Quatre replied sullenly, sounding hurt and just a bit petulant.

Trowa’s hand paused and he looked down at Quatre. Thankfully the blonde met his gaze. “You really don’t remember?” he asked in surprise.

“Remember what?” Quatre replied with mild annoyance.

“Quatre...I joined Preventer.” Trowa said. A long pause followed as Quatre appeared to process this seemingly new information.

“You what?”

The image of Quatre lying passed out on the gurney in the military helicopter, blood everywhere, breathing only with the help of a medic as they raced him to the nearest trauma center flashed in his mind. Trowa closed his eyes against the nightmarish memory. “Right after the doctors said you might not make it through the night,” he explained quietly. The last thing he needed was his voice to break.

“They were going after Castonev and I needed to go after him too. Lady Une didn’t think I was serious, so they made me wait until you were going to be okay. It just happened that we had to act on time sensitive information at the same time you woke up. I talked to you about it before I left.”  
_____________________________________________________________

“You really don’t remember me telling you about it?” Trowa asked after several moments of silence. He shook his head as he leaned against Trowa and hugged himself. The information hit him like a wall. He tried to remember, but it simply didn’t sound familiar. But Trowa wouldn’t lie either. He didn’t understand and it scared him. How could he lose a memory like that?

“I just remember you left and Rashid took me home. The doctors didn’t want me to exert myself by physically going to school until I healed more and I had put enough weight back on, so I’ve just been on home rest.”

Trowa shifted with him still in his arms until they were both laying down on the couch. Laying down was more comfortable and, almost naturally, their legs entwined together. Quatre found that he didn’t mind.

He closed his eyes tight. He typically tried to avoid remembering anything about the events leading up to his hospitalization. “Rashid’s team and I got separated,” he recalled. “The helo got shot down…” his voice trailed off as his throat constricted as he remembered having to escape the falling helo. Trowa’s arms hugged him tighter. “I ended up in the underground garage and then Kozlov was there. I remember everything with him, but then suddenly I was in the hospital. ”

“That’s a lot of time missing,” Trowa remarked, still absently running his hand through Quatre’s hair.

“They said it wasn’t uncommon.”

“I think they meant about the incident. Not what happened several days later,” he told him.

He replied quietly. “I remember waking up to Iria and then everybody else was there. You stayed in the corner like nothing happened between us. The repair bay, those nights...”

Trowa rested his forehead on his. Yeah, that had been his fault. He’d had a pretty good idea that his selfish need to go after Castonev would inevitably cause problems. “I’m sorry, Quatre,” he said quietly. “Iria was there and all the Maguanacs. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.”

“I’ll let you off the hook for that one,” he replied, stifling a yawn.

Trowa was suddenly reminded of how tired his friend had appeared after their argument and dropped the subject. He made a mental note to discuss Quatre’s memory with Rashid later. But for the time being, he was content to fall asleep with Quatre on the sofa.

_____________________________________________________________

Trowa felt something warm pushing against him, twitching violently. As he became more conscious he remembered breakfast, then the fight, and the talk that came after. The violent twitching continued, pulling Trowa fully awake as he realized that it was Quatre.

He could feel the blonde’s heart racing against his own chest. Trowa shifted into a half-sitting position. He grabbed the blonde’s shoulders and shook him gently. “Quatre! Quatre, wake up!” Quatre squeezed his eyes shut harder and shook his head, but Trowa didn’t think he was even aware of what he was doing.

His own heart started pounding as he continually failed to wake Quatre up. Calling his name didn’t seem to help at all and he didn’t want to shake the guy any more than he already had. He just wasn’t waking up!

________________________________________________________________

He was running down a long hallway. He could hear his own breathing becoming labored as his lungs protested against his ribs. He could feel the scar tissue on his injured side resisting their expansion, but he needed to keep running.

If he slowed down, he’d get caught. Turning down a side passage, he forced himself to breathe deeper. Running muscles needed oxygen, oxygen carrying blood was pumped by the heart, and oxygen was put into the blood by the lungs. His lungs had to work.

But they were not cooperating. He felt his footsteps falter, his speed slowed, and he couldn’t run anymore. He fell to his hands and knees as he tried to pull air into his screaming lungs.

Then he felt the shadow behind him and fear gripped his chest like a vice.

He couldn’t breathe.

He gasped for air, trying to push vital oxygen through the scarred organ, through his heart, and into his muscles.

He had to run.

The shadow was getting closer. His feet wouldn’t move. His lungs refused to expand. He looked up and there was the shadow.

A gunshot rang out.

Quatre’s blue eyes flew open as he woke up, startled and shivering. His whole body shook uncontrollably even as he felt Trowa’s strong arms pull him in tight. He buried his face in Trowa’s chest, eyes open so he didn’t have to see the shadow again. He heard Trowa whisper in his ear, “You’re alright,” over and over again.

No. No, he wasn’t.

________________________________________________________________

It had taken almost ten minutes before Quatre’s breathing had returned to normal and another half an hour for Quatre’s trembling to subside enough for him to hold a cup of tea without burning himself. He hadn’t left until he had been convinced that he wouldn’t fall apart in the time it took him to boil water.

Trowa had wrapped Quatre in the blanket to comfort him while he was in the kitchen. _He looks tiny in it_ , he thought as he leaned his slim frame on the counter waiting for the kettle to heat up. He could just barely see the top of his blonde head as he sat sideways on the couch, probably watching the ships in the harbor.

So he had PTSD.

 _Makes sense,_ he thought as the kettle whistled and Trowa poured the water. Lavender and chamomile. Something to soothe the nerves. He wasn’t sure how often Rashid may have witnessed it, but in the less than 24 hours he had been here, Quatre had checked all the boxes.

He sat down gently in front of Quatre who had indeed been staring out the window. His mouth twitched slightly in a failed attempt at a smile as Trowa offered the tea. “Both hands,” he warned as the blonde reached for the cup.

“You can be quite mothering when you want to be,” Quatre observed as he pulled the cup under the blanket with him, hunching over it, trying to absorb its heat into him. His face was pale and his voice cracked and wavered.

“Cathy’s wearing off on me,” Trowa deadpanned. That brought an almost imperceptible chuckle from Quatre. Despite the rough experience, he had just been though, it seemed as if his attitude had improved.

A positive sign.

_______________________________________________________________

Quatre watched as Trowa leaned his elbow on the back of the couch and propped his head up with his hand as he watched him nurse his tea. He felt slightly uncomfortable under his critical stare, but he couldn’t deny Trowa was right to watch him closely.

“When did they start?” Trowa asked quietly after a while.

Quatre stared into his tea, rolling his thumbs over the warm ceramic. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Trowa’s eyes. It was difficult to explain how he could feel so on edge even when there was no danger present. He knew it was illogical, but he felt shame for being in such a state as he was. It wasn’t normal. Wasn’t him.

“Quatre?” Trowa prompted gently.

“Oh,” Quatre’s eyes met Trowa’s for a second before dropping back down to stare at the couch. “About three weeks or so I guess.”

He could feel Trowa’s surprise and he winced inwardly when Trowa asked him if Rashid knew. Quatre shook his head.

“Why not?” Trowa asked. Quatre could hear him try to keep the accusation out of his voice, but it was there all the same.

“I didn’t want him to worry more than he already does...and I kind of hoped it would go away,” he explained, locking Trowa’s eyes with his. “He wouldn’t even leave me alone for a week simply because I sleep a lot.”

“As well he should have, considering...” Trowa replied mildly. “You need to see someone. You know that, right?”

Quatre nodded silently. He really didn’t want to though. The very idea made him cringe. He didn’t want to talk about the rescue mission or getting shot. But he knew Trowa was right.  
_____________________________________________________________

Trowa looked at the wall clock. It was three already. He looked back at Quatre, still clutching his tea as if it would save a drowning man in a river. “Want some lunch?” he asked as he peeled himself slowly off the couch so as not to startle his distracted friend.

Quatre shook his head a little. Trowa sighed inwardly. _So much for that_. Trowa comfortingly ran a hand through Quatre’s hair as he walked past. He glanced back once he reached the kitchen. Quatre had turned on the TV. Something about dolphins apparently.

Trowa pulled out his phone while he made himself a sandwich. Ten minutes and a full stomach later he hung up and wrote a date, time, and place on a scrap piece of paper and posted it to the fridge with a magnet. He glanced back into the living room. Quatre was still there and so were the dolphins.

He dialed another number as he started making soup. He might not be able to make the horse drink the water, but he would at least bring the water to the horse. Rashid’s voice came through the phone. “Trowa, is everything okay?”

Trowa leaned his back against the counter. “He’s got PTSD,” he said quietly.

“Are you sure? I know he hasn’t been himself, but...” came the voice over the phone.

“He checks all the boxes,” Trowa replied, crossing one foot over the other and watching Quatre watch dolphins. “It started a few weeks ago he said. To be fair, he was hiding it pretty well, but ignoring it tends to make it worse. You probably would have noticed soon.”

There was a thoughtful pause on the other end. “What happened?”

“We got into a fight. Wasn’t bad, but it was...significant. He had a pretty bad nightmare. It’s taken him almost an hour to get over it.” Trowa’s heart constricted thinking about the fearful look in those blue eyes when he had woken up. He pushed himself off the counter and remembered to stir the soup.

Rashid asked him another question. “We talked. Apparently, he doesn’t remember anything about me joining the Preventers or going after Kozlov. Apparently, he doesn’t remember much at all from his time in the hospital. To be honest, it’s a disturbing amount of memory loss.”

He could hear a voice address Rashid on his end. “I have to get back. He will need to see someone,” Rashid said.

“I took care of it. He’s seeing someone with enough security clearance to handle a Gundam pilot on Thursday.”

“Is that soon enough?” Rashid asked with concern.

“He hasn’t done anything to indicate he is a danger himself or anyone else,” Trowa assured him. “He’ll be fine. Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

They said their goodbyes and Trowa laid his phone on the counter. Stirring the soup some more he looked towards the living room again only to meet Quatre’s gaze as the blonde leaned casually against the island counter, hands in his pajama pockets.

Trowa hadn’t been expecting him to be right there and it startled him. The blonde smiled as if he smelled blood in the water. The image disconcerted him a little. “You’re slipping,” Quatre teased. As weak as his voice was, it was good to hear Quatre’s humor returning.

Trowa frowned. “Yesterday you looked like you wanted to kill me. Today you’re making jokes at my expense.”

Quatre shrugged. “I know more information than I did yesterday.” His eyes dropped to the floor. Sullen Quatre was back. “Is he mad?” he asked after a while.

Trowa felt a stab of guilt at that. He hadn’t exactly been trying to keep the phone call a secret, but he hadn’t wanted to advertise the fact that he had spoken to Rashid about him either. “Of course he’s not mad. Why would he be mad? He’s just worried about you and so am I.”

A noncommittal shrug was all the response Trowa received.  
___________________________________________________________

Quatre picked his eyes off the ground when he heard the soup boiling. He watched as Trowa turned the electric burner off. He felt guilty watching him put in so much effort.

“Trowa…” he said tentatively. Trowa turned around, giving him a questioning look. “I’m really not hungry.”

Trowa sighed audibly before fitting him with a stern expression. Quatre subconsciously pushed off from the counter and took a step back. “I’m not doing it on purpose,” he promised softly. “I’m just really not hungry.”

Trowa’s expression softened. “It was worth a shot,” he replied with a shrug as he put the soup in the fridge for later. He got a glimpse of the pile of food left from this morning. Quatre had been right. He really had overdone it. At this rate, they’d have to feed the leftovers to the neighborhood cats to get rid of it all.

They stood there staring at each other for a long while. Quatre suddenly felt the urge to get away come back. That hard look Trowa had given him had almost sent him running. He’d never been afraid of Trowa before and he still wasn’t. Not really. But that look on his face had the isolated safety of his room looking pretty appealing right about now.

The back of his neck tickled as he fought the urge to sprint back to his room and hide away from the world. That creeping voice in the back of his head warned him, again, what a bad idea it was for Trowa to be here. He obviously didn’t want to be. He’d stayed away until now. The only reason he was here was because Rashid had asked him to. And how could someone say no to babysitting the guy who almost died trying to rescue you for a week?

Suddenly Trowa was standing in front of him, hands framing his face. “Hey,” he said. He startled a bit, almost jumping out of his skin. Trowa’s hands were the only thing that kept him in place. He hadn’t even noticed that Trowa had moved. What was the hell wrong with him?

“What?” he asked innocently.

Trowa’s eyes rooted him in place just as effectively as his hands. He saw concern and affection in those eyes. Remembering the night on the town with Trowa, that time on the docking bay, the nights they had shared together on the Axiom, made him doubt the warning voice in his head. But he couldn’t completely discard it either.

“Your eyes glazed over. Where’d you go?”

“I was right here.”

The look on Trowa’s face, part understanding, and part patience said he knew differently. Slowly, so as not to hurt Trowa’s feelings, he pulled his face out of his hands. “Why did you come here, Trowa?” he asked quietly. It was difficult, but he had to ask, had to combat the fear that nagged at him.

Trowa took a step back and placed his hands in his pockets, giving him the space he needed. “Because I care,” he replied, his voice just as soft. “Of course I came.”

“But you left,” he reminded him. The expression on Trowa’s face was mild and open.

Trowa shrugged. “He’s the reason you almost died. Of course, I was going to go after him.”

Quatre considered that for a moment, watching Trowa closely. He couldn’t blame the guy for that. To be fair, before common sense had won over, Quatre had seriously considered going after Trowa in the heat of battle. He had been almost unreasonable in his anger and need to go after him. “Did you get him?”

The tight set of Trowa’s jaw was answer enough. “We got close though,” he replied. “Multiple times. We just weren’t fast enough. We have been chasing him for a while without much luck. The team is still following some leads, but they’re faint. I don’t expect much to come from it.”

Trowa closed the distance between them and wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close next to him as he walked them back into the living room.  
Quatre allowed himself to be guided back to the sofa where the two of them curled up together under the blanket he’d previously abandoned.

He tucked his head into the crook of Trowa’s shoulder. It was warm and he could hear the rhythm of his heart beating against his chest. “He’s the most wanted guy on in the Earth Sphere. We’ll get him eventually, so don’t think too much on it.” Trowa said as he absently ran his fingers through his hair. The light, repetitive motion of Trowa’s hand running through his hair had a relaxing effect on him and he drifted off to sleep.  
______________________________________________________________

The doorbell rang. He looked down at Quatre who slowly opened his eyes. “Expecting anyone?” Quatre shook his head, confusion marring his beautiful face as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He caressed Quatre’s cheek with his hand. “Alright,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll check it out.” He kissed the blonde’s forehead before untangling himself from underneath the blanket.

A glance at the wall clock had the time at a quarter till six. They’d spent a good part of the day napping. He shook his head in surprise as he walked across the cold hardwood. What he saw when he opened the door was definitely not what he expected. Six pairs of eyes stared at him and more than one was accompanied by a shout of surprise.

Great. Quatre’s friends.

He instantly felt awkward as they all stared at each other, shocked expressions all around. Standing there, holding the door partially open, he looked back over his shoulder. “Quatre.”

A pretty petite young lady with black hair and almond eyes dipped her head underneath his arm and yelled into the house. “Quatre Raberba Winner, either you get your gay ass over here or get your boy toy to let us in.”

He looked down at her, thoroughly unamused. She stared right back with an impish look on her face that could rival Duo’s. Really? Boy toy? He heard Quatre let out an exasperated sigh while he fought to untangle himself from the blanket in the background. “They’re fine Trowa, let them in.”

He tossed another look over his shoulder. Quatre had a pretty rough day already. Was he really up to handle this bunch? Before he could even ask the question, Quatre met his eyes. “They’re fine,” he assured him.

With a deep breath, he stood off to the side as the group entered. The girls seemed positively thrilled as they piled on past him, shoving alcohol in his arms and Trowa thought he saw someone with a rather large box. A tall, dark haired guy walked past. “Thanks, man,” he said, holding up several items in white paper. “Brought dinner.” Another guy who either looked like a wrestler or a rugby player followed a smaller brunette inside.

He glanced down at the alcohol the girls had given him and he looked back at Quatre. “Seriously, what’s the legal drinking age?” He might have been willing to die fighting for the colonies, but he really didn’t feel like going to jail for contributing to the delinquency of a minor...or several.

The jock went ahead and grabbed one of the beers from Trowa’s arms. “Dude, it’s 16,” he said, walking backward. “You’re in France.”

Trowa closed the door and watched as the group piled into the living room. Quatre was standing in front of the couch, folding the blanket they’d both just vacated. The sassy dark haired girl walked up to him, hands on her hips. “And what on Earth were you doing under that blanket, hm?” she asked pointedly. “You’re supposed to be sick.”

Quatre looked down at her as he finished folding the blanket. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day,” Trowa smirked as he walked into the kitchen and put the alcohol away. He was sounding more like his old self.

“Don’t go all misogynistic on me, Mr. CEO.”

“I’m not. The lip you dish out would get anyone in trouble.”

“He’s not incorrect, Maria,” the tall, dark haired guy said as he walked towards the far end of the room. “My father would tan my hide if I said _half_ the things you do.”

The girl turned her glare onto the tall guy as he pushed the glass door leading to the balcony open. “Your dad’s an ass.” She threw after him.

“That’s also not incorrect,” he yelled back as he started up the grill, setting his packages to the side so he could work.

Finished with his task, Trowa stood up and closed the fridge. The siblings walked out the door as well, joining the tall, dark haired guy. “Bring some plates, will you Quatre?” the girl asked.

He moved to the cabinet and started getting down plates. When he turned back around Quatre was directly in front of him. He handed the plates over, looking at him with curiosity. “Are they always like this?”

Quatre smiled at him and it felt as if the sun had finally woken up after a long slumber. “Pretty much,” he replied. “You eventually learn to roll with it. Maria just takes some effort sometimes.”

“Does she always speak that way to you?”

“She’s worse when she’s drunk, but yeah.”

“And you’re okay with that?” he asked. He was more than a little shocked that anyone would be crass enough around polite Quatre enough to demand that his “gay ass” do anything.

Quatre shrugged as he walked backward a few steps and flashed him a coy smile “How do you think I survived living in a house full of girls for fifteen years?” He turned back around and started walking to the back patio. “Come out and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Trowa looked through the large glass window. He could see everyone had spilled out across the expansive deck, taking a seat on the long wooden bench along the left side or leaning against the far rail that offered such a spectacular view of the waterfront. The sun was starting to set behind them, painting everything in a soft glow of peach. It was bright enough out for now, but soon the sun would be behind the hill and dusk would come. It was warm still, for November, but once that sun disappeared…

He grabbed two jackets from the coat closet and a pair of tennis shoes that looked to be Quatre’s size. He walked out into the living room and grabbed the blanket Quatre had just put back. The shoes and jacket would help, but pajama pants weren’t exactly made for a French November evening outside.

Putting on his own jacket, he opened the glass door to the patio. The tall guy glanced up at him from where he was grilling hamburgers and hot dogs. The wrestler was busy pushing a wide metal cylinder into the center of the deck while the other guy brought out a bunch of heavy nylon folding chairs from somewhere.

Trowa ignored them for the moment and scanned the deck for Quatre. He was already sitting sideways on the wooden bench along the far end, chatting with the girls. Not shocking, social butterfly that he was. The blonde had tucked his bare feet under the thighs of the blonde girl, who didn’t seem to mind acting as a personal foot warmer.

He walked over and offered the items he’d picked up for Quatre, who was rather excited at having additional layers. “Thanks,” he said as he put the shoes and jacket on.

The blonde young lady smiled at him. “How very thoughtful of you.”

“After two months of home rest, I wouldn’t advise getting pneumonia.” The gaggle of girls laughed.

Quatre gave him a less than sincere frown before moving to stand close to him. “Alright,” he said. “Since, we’re all out here. In order, you’re looking at Jaime, Suzzie, and of course, the ever decorous Maria.” Jaime wiggled her fingers at him, Suzzie simply said hi, and Maria promptly flipped Quatre the bird. Trowa couldn’t help but smirk at the attitude. Quatre’s upbringing must have prepared him well to deal with such a feisty one on a regular basis.

Quatre glanced over his shoulder. “That’s Thomas back there.” Trowa half-turned. Thomas waved his grilling tongs in the air but continued to focus on not burning dinner. “And those guys, down there,” Quatre said, indicating the guys with the cylinder, “are Eric and Todd.” Both guys briefly glanced up and said hi.

“Everyone...this is Trowa.”

______________________________________________________________

He glanced up at Trowa as he introduced his friends to the guy he was so hopelessly smitten with.The expressions plastered on the girls’ faces indicated he was still obvious too. With or without the last two and a half months taken into account, he hadn’t expected to have the opportunity to introduce him to his friends.

“Where did you two meet?” Jaime asked politely.

Because _that_ wasn’t a boyfriend question at all.

He wasn’t sure what they were to each other. They were certainly more than friends, despite his own dickish, albeit misguided, behavior recently. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to put the boyfriend label on either of them just yet. Best not to push it.

Wait, what? The realization of what she’d asked finally hit him. Where did they meet? Well, Corsica actually. During a battle with him, I ran out of my Gundam with the absurd notion at the time that we were allies and shouldn’t be trying to kill each other with our mobile suits.

He couldn’t say that though. So what could he say?

“The circus.” Trowa’s mild tone sounded completely unfazed by the question.

Eric pulled out a match from his pocket and tossed it into the cylinder. With a whoosh, a healthy fire came to life. “The circus?” he asked in surprise.

Quatre smiled slightly. Trowa’s answer gave him a foundation to build off of and he knew exactly where the other former Gundam pilot was going with it. “Yeah, he’s an acrobat. His company was performing at a colony nearby, so I went.” He let out a silent sigh of relief. It was close enough to the truth, while still holding back all the damning information. At least Trowa was on his game. He really should have thought about that question after Trowa had whisked him away on his motorcycle.

Everyone’s eyes fixated on Trowa. “Dude, seriously?” asked Eric as the girls let out a chorus of “really's” and “wows”.

“Props to you man,” Todd said as he casually leaned his back against the deck railing.

“That’s actually not too surprising,” came Thomas’ equally mild voice from the grill. Quatre and Trowa both half turned in his direction and saw Thomas also turned towards them. He’d obviously been eyeing Trowa up and down and he didn’t seem sorry for it either. “You look like a gymnast,” he said before turning back and adjusting the hamburgers and hot dogs.

“So what? You guys sorta connected at first sight?” The question was Suzzie’s and caused them both to face forward again. Quatre felt the heat flush his face. From the corner of his eye, he chanced a glance up at Trowa. Even he had a slight color to his cheeks. At least he wasn’t the only one.

“Something like that,” Trowa replied, voice still neutral. It reminded him of Heero. Those two were always so calm under pressure.

“Enough with the third degree,” Thomas called. “Come get dinner.” With that, Thomas dished out the food.

By the time everyone had eaten their fill, the sun had set. The only thing keeping them warm and able to see each other was the crackling fire in front of them. Thomas and Trowa seemed to have hit it off rather well. They sat next to each other in chairs, talking of history and politics while Jaime, Todd, and Maria sat with him on the bench, catching him up on everything that had happened at school over the time he’d been gone. Suzzie and Eric chimed in every so often from their own chairs near the fire, but mostly they kept to themselves.

After a while, Thomas languidly pushed himself out of a chair and took alcohol orders before disappearing back into the house and returning a few minutes later. “Suzzie, give Quatre the thing,” he said as he handed out drinks. Fruity wine coolers for the girls and beers for the guys.

Quatre shifted from his rather comfortable position in the corner between the window-wall of the house and the deck railing. “You guys got me something?” he asked, looking back and forth between everyone’s faces. He once again felt the color in his cheeks.

“Of course we did sicky,” Maria replied as Suzzie handed her a large black box with light blue ribbon.

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly as he took the box from Jaime carefully. It was lighter than he’d expected.

“We wanted to man,” Todd replied. “You seemed to have a pretty rough time of it lately.”

“We were going to wait until you actually got back to school,” Jaime added.

“But we wanted to see how you were doing since you were given the go ahead to return to school on Monday, so we figured we’d just give it to you now,” Thomas finished.

Quatre gave Thomas a critical look. “You guys have been planning this little venture haven’t you?” Thomas just smiled.

“Go ahead and open it,” Jaime urged. “We’re all excited. Do it.”

With a resigned sigh, Quatre gently pulled at the ribbon, which unraveled easily. Jaime’s work, if he’d have to guess. She was good at that sort of thing. Carefully, so as not to dislodge the blanket that he’d wrapped himself in, he folded his legs under him, so he could hold the box in his lap. As he lifted the lid off, his breath caught.

It was an electric violin. Soft white throughout the body and a shimmer of opal when moved and accented with a black chinrest and fingerboard. It almost looked like a multihued tuxedo. A fire breathing dragon was painted on the scroll at the top of the neck. This was a Bridge Dragon. This was a professional instrument. Seven strings too. _Damn, they might be overestimating my ability_.

He was speechless. He ran his fingers over the strings. They were begging to be played. He had to force his eyes up in order to look at his friends, it was a stunningly beautiful instrument. “Thanks, you guys.”

“Play it.”

He looked over at Trowa whose smirk was bordering on breaking out into a fully fledged smile. He sighed and looked at the violin again. Sure enough, the bow was there too. Same soft white with opal.

He withdrew both violin and bow from the box, which Jaime promptly pulled away. Tucking the base under his chin and against his shoulder, he worried that he might be too rusty to play an instrument of this caliber. He hadn’t played in over two months.

Something easy then. Make sure it’s tuned and gauge his own ability. Drawing the bow slowly across the strings, he listened carefully. It sounded pretty good actually. The seven strings threw him a little though. That would take some getting used to. He tweaked one of the tuning pegs just a little, then laid down another draw. Perfect.

He started in on a pop song. Something he knew most of the group would know. The pace was moderate if a bit staccato. The longer pulls were light and airy though. Fun to play and not overly difficult. The chorus could be tricky if you weren’t careful, but he was fine.

 _Not as rusty as I’d feared_. But it was an electric. Time to play it like one.

With a sassy and short high note draw, he started in on something faster, a fusion of electro dance and R&B with a funky side. Originally written for an electric violin, it had a healthy mix of short and long runs, plenty of off beats, and complicated finger work. It was a challenging piece and one of his favorites to play on his acoustic.

He stole another glance at Trowa. Like everyone else, he seemed to be entranced, though Quatre would bet that he was remembering a spring day from two years ago when he wasn’t playing alone.

In that moment, he believed Trowa. Everything was going to turn out alright. Yeah, he had PTSD, but he’d get through it. Trowa was back. What that meant for the future, he didn’t know, but he was looking forward to finding out.

Sitting out on the deck, playing the violin in front of a fire, surrounded by friends and Trowa, whatever Trowa was to him...Quatre was hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! The end! 
> 
> A few notes: I took a few liberties in regards to Quatre's violin he was gifted. It is a Bridge Dragon, one of the premier professional grade violins (as far as my research turned up) and offer an array of custom paint jobs; however, they only make four and five-stringed violins. Vector Instruments though, DOES have both six and seven-stringed electric violins, so I combined the aspects of the two to create his one-of-a-kind instrument. 
> 
> Also, this chapter did deal with PTSD. I did a lot of research and tried to make it seem real and, for the most part, accurate. It is a fictional work, so some of it may be less accurate than the reality. According to ptsdunited.org, roughly 24.4 million people in the U.S. have PTSD at any given point in time. Women are twice as likely as men to develop PTSD. If you need help, please do not be afraid to ask for help. Crisis Call Center Hotline:(775) 784-8090, or 1 (800) 273-8255 | National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1 (800) 273-8255 | Text: "ANSWER" to 839863. And though this fanfic didn't discuss sexual assault, I will leave the Sexual Assault Support Services number here as well. Just in case anyone wants it. SASS Hotline: (775) 784-8090.


End file.
